


Parents of A Lesser God: Faith Fixing Cordy Makes Other Problems

by StrangeBint



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), The Craft (1996), The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Connor Deserves Happiness, Cordelia Chase Lives, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, LGBTQ Character, Old Gods, POV Angel (BtVS), POV Buffy Summers, POV Connor, POV Cordelia Chase, POV Faith Lehane, POV Spike (BtVS), Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeBint/pseuds/StrangeBint
Summary: What if one small change was made in Sunnydale that disrupted everything in LA?Would falling apart sooner somehow bring everyone together?"Fixing" Angel Season 4 and Buffy Season 7.A Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series focused fic with brief crossovers from other shows. Ensemble with heavy focus on Faith, Connor, Buffy Summers, Spike, Angel, and Cordelia.I promise to finish this one!
Relationships: Angel & Spike & Buffy Summers, Angel (BtVS)/Cordelia Chase, Angel/Buffy Summers, Connor (AtS)/Cordelia Chase, Connor (AtS)/Faith Lehane, Kennedy/Willow Rosenberg, Spike/Buffy Summers, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	1. Optics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Goddess made one small change? Would things get worse before they get better?

**Miss Kitty Fantastico Puts in The Fix: Optics**

Miss Kitty Fantasico wasn’t new to the Eldrich-Realm. It was all very white and swirly with a dingy grey. She found it all very boring with very little to climb on. She finally found a small empty fountain and hoped up on it.

None of the Eldrich gods seemed to notice her. This was one of the advantages to being a cat. Humans, as well as most gods, were all so big and ghastly and impressed with themselves for it and they rarely noticed cats.

Miss Kitty Fantasico She had always been a cat. Why wouldn’t she be? Cats were always worshipped and revered when they wanted to be noticed. She was always a Goddess. Her name wasn’t always Miss Kitty Fantastico but she liked the earthly name and she had liked her remaining worshippers that lived in that realm. She had liked it so much that when she heard what was afoot in the Eldrich-Realm she had to investigate.

She really didn’t care for the Eldrich gods on a good day. In there realm they all looked alike, big floating balls with tentacles like yarn that was too thick to play with, but when kitty twitched her ears back and forth she was able to hear what the one she knew was trouble was saying.

“My name will be Jasmine and I was thinking I’d go back to Americana classic and look like Marylyn Monroe.” the bouncy blob said

“Are you sure, boss?” said the bouncy blob’s demon servant, “There was already a Marylyn. I mean…”

He was frightened. This god wasn’t kind to their servants. The servant was still big to kitty but much smaller than the god-blob. He looked almost like a human, but kitty knew humans were silver with red eyes and silvery poky things jutting out on them. He was ugly.

“…isn’t it kind of gimmicky? I’m just thinking of the optics if anything goes bad.”

He made Kitty miss her beautiful Queen servant even though she knew she’d soon be back with her. The Queen had lived on earth not too long ago. She was the one who had given Kitty her latest name. When Kitty had exited the earthly realm before her The Queen had been so heartbroken. So, when Kitty had heard The Queen had exited the earthly realm not long after Kitty knew she’d make the best royal servant a Goddess could have. Since she was such a good servant the Kitty often protected the Queen’s earthly family for her.

“Skip,” the blob said, “How long have I been planning this with my parents?”

Parents? This was boring Kitty, but she knew whenever the Eldrich talked of “parents” it only meant that they were about to wreck some humans. Eldrich gods wrecked humans didn’t it far less subtle dignified ways than tripping them. Were they the Queen’s humans?

“Since before that little squirt Connor was even, well, squirted,” replied the demon servant.

Kitty poised to jump down from the fountain. This didn’t sound like any of her concern. She’d just let the Powers That Be discover this god had betrayed them. Kitty was too busy protecting The Queen’s family on earth. She was the original goddess of protection, pleasure, and good health. As it turned out pleasure and good health were easy to give her servant’s family from above. Protection was harder. 

There was always so much danger coming at them. It was exhausting! The tiny blood one was the worst, and now she was even denying herself pleasure when Kitty would practically throw it her way through the vampire, and other opportunities.

“Exactly,” the blob said, “I almost miss those early days. Angel and Darla were so easy. Cordelia and Connor are proving harder.”

“Grandparents are always easier than parents. But, did you ever, um, think about the optics of Cordelia and the kid? I mean if it were Cordy and Angel it might play better, but. I guess…”

Kitty stopped on the fountain. Did they say “Angel?” That was a name muttered about the tiny blond one. Kitty suspected this “Angel” was why the girl denied herself all the pleasure.

“You’ve been in LA far too long, Skip,” the god said, “Optics? How things look won’t matter once they’re all at peace. If you were here more you’d remember it _had_ to be Connor. He had to be created. An impossible birth for the impossible birth. That’s how it’s done. He does have a will I didn’t expect, but I know he won’t deny Cordelia”

“Oh right. And I know he won’t deny Cordy. I mean who would? But...”

“Just say it.”

“The thing is boss. Aren’t you gonna be weak at first? Shouldn’t we really think about optics? Does it have to be Cordy? I know it’s all legal but the kid looks fourteen and she’s—She’s Cordelia Chase!”

As the creatures talked Kitty looked into the fountain. She pulled at the family member she had the biggest connection to in the earthly realm of Sunnydale, The Key. Kitty always checked on The Key. The child was always going through some ending.

“Exactly! There’s no one else strong enough or connected to The Powers. People won’t have to know or care about my parents, Skip. But, maybe we should think about some optics. People may be looking for a stronger figure than one that looks like Marilyn. There’s so much to be scared of.”

“Yeah,” the demon said, “You’ve got The Beast tryin’ to block out the sun. Not to mention you have the origin of Evil deciding it’s time to pick on teen girls and the Slayer a few hours north. All part of the plan, but people are scared.”

These ugly things are part of why Kitty has to work so hard protecting The Queen’s family on earth!

“Yes,” she said, “Once The Origin ends The Slayer line and I pacify the rest of the humans we can all rule earth again in all its dimensions.”

Earth in all its dimensions? Where would all the cats be without their human servants! That was just greedy.

“But first there’s optics,” the demon said.

“What if I were like a maternal Oprah?”

The demon made an odd noise. Kitty recognized it as an “anxiety haw.” The Witch Goddess who was Kitty’s other servant often did it.

“Eeeeh. If people realized who your parents were the optics on that would be a politically incorrect nightmare.”

“Skip,” the god drawled, “You know no one questions Oprah. If they do they’re the evil ones.”

Well, now Kitty definitely had to do something! This was a triple threat. This directly involves her servant’s family. It would make the earth inhabitable to cats. And no one should infringe on the great Oprah! She needed to use all of her power at exactly the right time. Kitty focused with all her might. After that was done she hissed at the blob and her servant.

“What is that thing doing here!” the blob shrieked.

“Skat!” the demon advanced toward Kitty.

She skittered out of the Eldrich realm. It didn’t take her long to find her servant Queen. She enjoyed being with the other witches. Often once that had fallen into bad times on earth. Nancy was her Queen’s favorite. Kitty liked her too. She had clearly been a cat in one of here lives. Her eyes were huge green and penetrating even in this quiet haven. She wore pointy black boots.

“Tara! The cat’s back,” she said, “You think she saved your rotten world?”

Nancy lifted Kitty up in her arms. Nancy liked to think of herself as a bad witch, a very scary one. But on her earth, she only murdered two rapists and turned on one selfish witch who took all the power for herself. Compared to The Witch Goddess she was an angel. Yet, she died in a mental hospital. Lots of earthly realms were unfair to witches. Nancy handed Kitty to her servant Queen.

“Whatever you did I know it was small,” The Queen whispered to her, “But the best changes always are.”

Her Queen servant would be pleased.


	2. Resiliency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Sunnydale Dawn thinks about Ms. Kitty Fantastico and her "Inner Faith." In LA something is going on in Cordelia Chases's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes are boring: This chapter talks openly about suicide. This is the suicide chatline:  
> https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/  
> If you're reading this YOU ARE AWESOME & have awesome taste & I want you to know:  
> TALKING OPENLY TO PEOPLE ABOUT FEELING SUICIDAL HELPS! It does NOT make someone suicidal to talk. If you think someone is suicidal TALK TO THEM. If you are suicidal TALK TO SOMEONE. If you can't go to the confidential chat above.

_Resiliency_

Dawn Summers often thought about Kitty Fantastico. Tara and Willow’s kitten was slain because she had activated a crossbow lying at a dangerous angle in the closet. It had been over three years ago.

Now really wasn’t a good time to be thinking about her, but Dawn couldn’t help it. She obsessed over Kitty still. Even now, when they had found out The First Evil had been pretending to be a dead Potential.

Dawn rebound up the stairs to check to see if the crossbows weren’t loaded. Even though that over three years and a lifetime ago Dawn thought about Kitty when she was stressed. Her grief counselor called it her _rumination._

Dawn had talked to her, the dead Potential. Her name was Eve. Besides being a Potential she was just a normal looking blond girl. Only it wasn’t really her, it turned out the real Eve had been murdered at the motel before she even made it to the Summer’s house for safety. She had been hunted like an animal, an innocent animal, like Kitty. It was the motel Faith used to stay in, but Faith was no innocent animal. It wasn’t fair.

A Few months ago Dawn barely know that The Watcher’s Council had trained girls they knew to be Potential Slayers. Now there were about thirty Potential Slayers in the Summer’s four-bedroom place. They mostly slept in the living room. But, some where in Dawn’s room. Spread out with sleeping bags on her glitter nail polish stained rug. Probably judging her Justin Timberlake posters she never had time to change. What posters would she even put up now?

At first Dawn thought all these Potentials were just like her. Unlike most people, they knew the world was ending, for real. It wasn’t just some stuff on the news about killer bees or viruses or sinkholes. Yet they were pretty powerless to do anything about it. But, Dawn noticed there was something about them. Something in them that wasn’t in Dawn. It was a word. It started with an “R.”

It obviously wasn’t “rumination.” It was a word that meant sometimes all this death got you down, but then you bounced back up. It was in her sister too of course. The word wasn’t “rubber,” but now that was the only world Dawn could think of. 

That counselor had been nice. She had told Dawn that if checking to see if the crossbow was put away wasn’t making her late or disturbing her she could do it. Now the counselor at the school was Buffy. Her stressed out Slayer sister that seemed to like being around high school kids as much as dead kittens.

When Dawn reached her room she was thinking about how Dr. Wood, her new principal, wanted to sleep with Buffy, and that was why she had the counselor job. But, how it was still good Buffy had that job because the high school was right on top of The Hellmouth. But all of Dawn’s thoughts stopped when she saw a girl in her room tying a rope around her neck.

“Stop,” Dawn heard herself say even though she felt frozen.

“No,” the girl said and she said something after it, but Dawn couldn’t hear because Dawn was yelling: “Help!”

“No, no. Shhh,” the girl said, “You don’t understand.”

_Don’t understand? What; you just like a little rope play?_ A voice was in Dawn’s head. That voice that said mean things she’d never say. Dawn recognized it as Faith’s voice. Of course it really wasn’t Faith’s voice, or The First pretending to be Faith. The First could only be dead people. The real Faith was alive and well in a jail cell. It was just Dawn’s inner mean girl. The real Faith would probably know a better term than “rope play.” Dawn heard a herd of footsteps bounding down the hallway. She felt a lithe body breeze past her.

“Chloe, no!” Kennedy said.

Of course it was Kennedy. Dawn felt like she was part of her wallpaper which was flowery and childish. More Potentials came in behind Kennedy. Kennedy and the rope girl were having an argument as Dawn’s heart hammered.

“…was just trying it out,” the girl had shoulder length brown hair.

“Trying it out?” a girl behind Dawn demanded.

It was Amanda. Amanda went to Dawn’s school. Amanda and Dawn had been friends. Before all this. Before all this they had had even fought off a vampire together. But, now that Amanda was a Potential it was like there was a wall up between them. Even though Amanda was staying at Dawn’s house.

“…don’t even like the real me! You just think we have something in common because you know. You know! But, you wish I was cooler, but I can’t be. I can’t be like you! You and your witch girlfriend and…” The girl who tried to hang herself was screaming at Kennedy.

Dawn couldn’t help but think that it was something she might say, even though these girls weren’t like her. The girl wasn’t acting very r-word. She wasn’t bouncing back. At least this girl had beef with Kennedy. Dawn felt her lips move upwards into a smile, until Kennedy spoke.

“Oh my god! Chloe! Do you know how alone I’d be without you?” she said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you.”

Dawn kind of felt like a monster for hating Kennedy and for being mad at Willow for hooking up with her. But she did hate Kennedy. She was mad at Willow. Tara hadn’t been dead a year, and Dawn couldn’t help her feelings.

Yet, Kennedy had feelings. Kennedy was hugging this girl. She actually didn’t know Kennedy had any feelings other than angry and being the pushy queen of lesbian slut town.

How was Kennedy "hard" rope girl? Who’s name was Chloe. Had they dated too? Dawn doubted it. Chloe just got here a week ago. She had brown hair molded to her head like a helmet and she was wearing a shirt that had a Winnie the Pooh in the pocket. She seemed so young. Maybe you had to be old enough for your bouncing-back-r-word to begin as a Potential. When Buffy had been a Potential she had pretty much only cared about clothes and her jock boyfriend. Of course she had only been fifteen and no one knew she had potential, except they kind of did.

Dawn heard her sister’s footsteps before she saw her.

“Now what?” Buffy said in the doorway.

“…It was my mom! She was telling me it would be better,” Chloe told the other girls, “Better than what’s coming, but then she said—She said—I was the reason she killed herself.”

Her sobs were like a blunt knife stabbing Dawn behind the eyes. She really wished these girls would get used to The First already. She could tell her sister felt the same way.Dawn’s inner Faith spoke: _Man up, squirt. You already know this is The First’s M.O._ _Or if you wanna off yourself, off yourself. What do I care? You’ll just be one less chick who can take my place when I bite it._

Inner Faith, ha, ha. Of course, Dawn couldn’t say that. Buffy _really_ couldn’t say that. It wasn’t fair. Dawn felt fourteen again as she hated Faith for everything she had done to Buffy.

Faith was supposed to be the one who took Buffy’s place so she could go to college and have a normal life. It was fair because Faith hated school and loved slaying. It had all seemed so simple when Dawn was twelve. By the time she was fourteen and Faith woke up Dawn already knew Buffy hated school and Faith was “a total train wreck.” She was just a slut trying to be cool. She was also a psychopath who tried to kill her sister and screw her boyfriend. She had done the latter.

“Okay!” Buffy stood in Dawn’s room in her work clothes, “The show is over. It’s been a great lesson on what _not_ to do. We’ve been over this. The First is going to take the form of any dead person you know. It can’t touch you. The only way it can hurt you is if you let it. If you’re weak. You’re not weak. If you were weak The First wouldn’t be trying to let you…”

Dawn tuned Buffy out. She was tired of the speeches. The other five girls in the room felt the same way.

“She sounds like an evil stepmother in a fairytale,” One of them whispered.

It wasn’t Kennedy. It was the black girl. Oh no! Dawn shouldn’t think of her like that. Especially since more black girls, more _African American_ had shown up. At least Dawn thought they were all American. This was not politically correct. Dawn tuned back into her sister.

“…I don’t care about your dead mother,” Buffy said, “You know who else has a dead mother who appeared to them? Me, but I didn’t try to kill myself and it’s not because I’m the Chosen One. It’s because I’m not stupid.”

What? Is this what Buffy was telling Dawn’s classmates as a counselor?

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kennedy stalked over to Buffy, “Isn’t your day job talking to depressed teens?”

Kennedy was only an inch taller than Buffy. Why was it always the short ones?

“It is, because unlike all of you, I have a day job,” she said, “So, I really don’t need to come home and do it here.”

For some reason Dawn thought of Miss Kitty. Dead from the loaded crossbow. Whose fault was that? No one’s. That’s what had been decided.

“Sorry we’re not out making money, Miss Hannigan,” Kennedy said, “It’s kind of hard with all the things wanting to kill us. But we’re doing all the housework which is more than your dangerous vampire boyfriend is doing.”

Dawn felt the air of a snigger escape her. She then felt the power of her sister's glare.

“Spike is not my boyfriend. He’s something we need to—“

“Didn’t you start your counselor job like a week ago?” Chloe picked at her fingers as she sat on the bed, “Maybe it’s not your thing and you should quit.”

Buffy took a step toward the timid girl on the bed.

“Says the girl that just try to quit life. You know what? Maybe you just should. I’m sick of—“

Dawn moved in front of Buffy.

“Are you sick of me, Buffy?” Dawn said, “I was a suicidal teen two whole months ago. Should I just—“

“Not a good time, Dawn,” Buffy said.

Dawn had waited for Buffy to figure out she and RJ had sex. She hadn’t. She had even waited for Spike to smell it and try to kill the kid. But he was too busy going crazy with a soul.

“Not a good time?” Dawn said, “When is it a good time, Buffy? To be suicidal or depressed. Because I seem to remember when—“

“Dawn!” Buffy said, “That wasn’t you. You weren’t suicidal. That was a spell. You didn’t even like that guy.”

“Just a spell? Just a spell? People die during spells, Buffy,” she said, “and you’re not even trying --”

“You’re right I’m not even trying. I’m doing. I’m working. I’m slaying because I’m the Slayer. It’s my job to keep people alive and if you all don’t fall in line—“

“Are you saying you’re the law?” Dawn said, “That you don’t care who dies? You sound like Faith.”

Buffy’s face fell and Dawn’s heart was no longer hammering. It was replaced by an angry tightness in her chest.

“Faith,” Kennedy said, “You mean the other Slayer. She—“

“Buffy,” Giles appeared in the doorway, “I really need to speak to you about—“

“Is everything okay?” Xander was behind Giles.

“Chloe tried to kill herself because The First appeared as her mom and Buffy just yelled at her and said maybe she should do it,” Dawn said.

Dawn knew she was acting like she was a twelve-year-old tattletale. She was _regressing,_ going back when things were so simple and when her mom was alive.

 _`Buffy!_ Their mother would say, _I know that’s not you. I know you’re kind even when you do get jealous. I know you like to be the center of attention but--_

“And Dawn seems to think it would be better if Faith, the homicidal-slash-suicidal Slayer in jail for murder were running things!” Buffy unfolded her arms and stormed past Giles and Xander in the doorway.

“That’s _not_ what I said,” Dawn’s heart was hammering again.

She thought Giles would go after Buffy but he merely made that noise he made when he was flummoxed. It sounded like “Mnngh.”

“Maybe—Maybe we should start a suicide watch,” the redheaded girl stood as she picked at Dawn’s heart shaped pillow, “Or at least talk openly about it...without shame.”

Dawn’s heart stopped hammering. She suddenly remembered the “r” word. _Resiliency,_ she pictured Tara saying it. _The word is Resiliency, and you have it, Dawnie. Sometimes more than Buffy._

“I think that’s a great idea,” Dawn said, “Right, Giles? You can talk about the stuff you remember from suicide prevention week at school.”

“Do we really need to talk—“ Chloe began

“Yes! ” the redhead said and bit her lip, “My mom is a psychologist. So, I can tell you it helps to talk about it. Talking about it doesn’t make anyone suicidal. It’s not talking about it that’s bad.”

“Maybe you can call your mom,” Xander said to her, “Maybe she can come here and give us--”

“I can’t,” she said her eyes flooded with tears.

“Oh, no,” Xander said, “Please, don’t say she’d dead and appearing to you as The First. Is she behind me? If she is whatever she saying do the opposite.”

Somehow Xander Harris could say something like that and make it funny. It was because he made himself the scared one, the “stupid” one. He did this for everyone else all the time. What did he ever get for it? Dawn wished she had kept crushing on him up until a year ago. Instead she wasted the last of her innocence crushing on a demon her sister was fucking who ended up hurting her. Xander was the one who fixed the wall that Spike broke.

The Potential smiled. See. She had _resiliency_ she could laugh at that and Xander really was the best. Dawn remembered her name was Vi.

“No,” Vi said, “It’s just too dangerous to call her. I haven’t since I left my dorm. She probably thinks I’m dead which is better because, probably I will be by the time this is over.”

“Hey,” Xander said, “No that’s no way to think. You need to keep positive. We should do the other thing you said, and talk about suicide…I meant, um, you know, positively talk about it…Like, the whole talking about it so you don’t do it thing.”

“You mean suicide prevention?” Dawn said.

“Why doesn’t everyone who wants to come downstairs to talk about—about Suicide, um,--- “ Giles stammered.

“--prevention,” Dawn said again.

“Yes, prevention,” Giles completed.

The five girls went downstairs. Giles stood frozen in the hall.

“Should I Google some stuff and print it out?” Dawn asked Giles.

“Please,” Giles whispered.

“I guess Vi can talk first,” Xander said.

As Dawn printed stuff out at the computer at her mom’s old desk Dawn wondered what was Giles doing during suicide prevention week when he worked at the high school. Didn’t they have suicide prevention week then?

They were probably busy fighting Angelus during suicide prevention week. Maybe the next year it was Faith. As Dawn loaded more paper into the printer she thought about Faith again. Faith had become suicidal when she couldn’t literally be Buffy, or maybe she always was. Dawn had been fourteen. Buffy hadn’t been able to see any of that either. Dawn would never understand how it was Angel who had figured it out about Faith. Angel couldn’t have a five second conversation with tween Dawn. How could he know about someone’s feelings?

How could Faith Lehane be suicidal? She was so badass even if she was crazy and evil. Meanwhile, no one ever noticed girls like Chloe. Dawn had barely noticed her. That was the problem. That was when people needed the most help. The people that didn’t get noticed. She never thought she’d have to be the one to help. But when Dawn went into the living room with the printouts. They all looked at her including Giles who stopped talking.

“So,” Kennedy said, “You tried to off yourself two months ago. I assume you’re sister, the counselor, was no help.”

“She—“ Dawn began, “You know what? We don’t have to talk about her.”

“And we don’t have to talk about Dawn’s personal life either. We can just stick to the lighter more general stuff,” Xander gripped the paper, “Oh wow. Are these statistics really that high? And that’s not on a Hellmouth?”

“Attempts are higher for girls,” Dawn said, “and they are higher for, um, gay youth and minorities.”

“Gay, Lesbian, Transgendered and inter-sex youth,” Kennedy said.

Dawn didn’t know what one of those words meant. She was going to have a long Google night. Maybe she wouldn’t go to school tomorrow. Less people were going with The Hellmouth being so active.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe moved her hair out of her eyes , “But, I already know that. I—I’m living it. But, I think we need to talk about what The First does to us.”

“You mean brainwashing,” Dawn said.

“Is it really brainwashing?” Chloe looked to Dawn, “I did know that it wasn’t my mother. I’m _not_ stupid. I—I just didn’t care anymore. Thank you for helping me though.”

“No,” Dawn said, “It—it was Kennedy.”

Dawn wanted to say it was Miss Kitty Fantasico, that it was Tara. It had felt like them. But, she had to be mature.

“No,” Kennedy said to Dawn, “It was you. Thank you. Chloe has come to mean a lot to me.”

_You’ll never mean anything to me. You’re not Tara! I don’t care if you have feelings!_ Dawn could almost she Tara in a column of sunlight by the fireplace. Kitty Fantastico was weaving between Tara’s legs.

_“Dawnie,” Tara in her mind said, “Be nice. Of course she’s not me. But, she’s scared like all of you.”_

Dawn knew she was _not_ mature inside, but she could behave maturely.

“It _is_ brainwashing even when you know,” Dawn said to Chloe, “and you shouldn’t be ashamed. It _has_ happened to my sister. It can happen to anyone. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, or resilient when it’s happening. Sometimes it’s harder for strong people to see that they are brainwashed, or if they need help.”

###

Five hours away Cordelia Chase paced in an attic apartment. The sun was going to set soon, and then what? It didn’t matter. None of it did. She was no longer the Cordelia Chase who had to care about shallow earthly things. The girl filled with holes. She was a Higher Being, a Higher being who remembered her purpose now.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Connor said.

Cordy turned to look at him. The impossible boy who was just going to help her bring about one to end all this misery and pain.

He was lithe and skinny. So different from all the boys and men she used to think she wanted. So different from his father. Connor made her think of Doyle. Doyle, who had been the beginning of her end. He only kissed Cordy and she was changed forever. Always feeling other people’s pain. Now she could stop all that pain forever.

“I know,” she said to Connor, “I’m scared; not anymore. Now that I’m with you.”

And it was true. She wasn’t lying to him. She wasn’t lying to any of them. She just couldn’t tell them everything. But, when this was all over and done with they’d all understand and they’d all finally have peace.

“Good,” he said, “Whatever you saw coming in your vision; I’ll fight it.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “It’s just the end of the world as usual, but I think the two of us can save it.”

She knew they could; they had to.

“You’re safe with me, Cordelia.”

His voice held no arrogance. It sounded wounded still and always. Cordy moved to Connor’s body and put her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry, Connor,” she put her finger under his chin.

“You don’t have anything to feel sorry about,” he said

.

My god. His eyes. They were like two huge ever-moving synchronized blue earths. No, it was his whole face. It was a multiverse of roiling emotion and need. Cordelia was a Higher Being who found it challenging to hold his gaze. She had never felt that way about Angel. No one could stare Angel into the floor like she could…or she used to.

“Yes, I do,” her voice was thick as she buried her face into his shoulder, “I—I can’t believe the things I said to you when—when—“

“When that demon turned you all into teenagers with his reckless demonic magic? It wasn’t you.”

Connor was right. The spell made Cordy act like the old her, and that wasn’t her. His arms were around her and his body was stiff. 

“It wasn’t Lorne’s fault,” Cordelia pulled away to brave looking at his face, “and it all ended up okay in the end.”

He sneered.

“You could have been like that forever. The real you lost,” he said.

Cordy stiffened for a moment.

“Was I really that bad?” she said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t me. Queen C is dead.”

“Queen who?”

She broke their embrace and looked out the window again. The birds had stopped crashing into the windows. But, the sky didn’t look right. It held bursts of angry pink.

“It was what they called me back in high school in Sunnydale.”

“You mean, where my father slept with that Slayer and lost his soul,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. The place where she once ruled, at least in the high school.

Cordy balled her fists. She had thought she loved Angel. Angel who slept with Buffy Summers once and couldn’t get over it. Angel who had slept with who knows how many others and _could_ get over it. What had Cordy been thinking before her ascension? That she was going to have Buffy Summers sloppy seconds and be happy? With Angel?

So, in two years she could be miserable and alone. Not that Cordelia would ever be either of those things. She was not Buffy Summers. No version of her Higher, lower, or middle being would EVER get hysterical over some guy.

“God,” she turned to Connor, “That place will really make you hate getting your memories back. Not to mention the rest of the world. I bet they’re battling their own apocalypse in Sunnydale right now. I’ll bet that whatever it’s about it’s childish and small and everyone is all emotional without a teenage spell.”

“Wouldn’t it be the same?” he asked.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t that Slayer be fighting the same apocalypse? Do Slayers fight apocalypses? I thought they just killed demons,” he looked away from her shyly, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to remember that place or The Slayer. If Angelus ever comes back again know that I’ll kill him.”

She moved to him and caught his face again. This time his gaze wouldn’t intimidate her.

“I know you would, honey,” she said, “I know you would. But, I think what’s destined for us is bigger than that. Bigger than the both of us and everything in this world.”

Queen C was dead, long live Queen C.

*


	3.      Conversations with Death Wishers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's POV After Dawn saved a Potential from suicide Buffy and the Scoobies have all the hard conversations at once. There's a reason they never talk about some things. Buffy knows who to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Scooby angst bores you just scroll down to the $$$$$ line and read the last few paragraphs to get the gist and the action.  
> If you wanted to see how it might go if they really talked about Kennedy and Tara, Buffy killing Angel, Buffy's feelings on Dawn & Xander's feelings over Spike. And, you'd like an Anya monolog about a car chase; Then this is so for you!

Conversations with Death Wishers 

_I don’t really wanna be the queen. I don’t really wanna life this way._ The lines of that stupid song were going through Buffy’s head. She sat at her kitchen table as Willow, Xander and Anya came in. Then came Dawn.

If Buffy was a queen, Dawn had been her scheming princess sister for the past few days and no one would want to live this way. Since that Potential tried to kill herself everything seemed to be speeding up, or out of order, or something. Things just felt even more wrong.

Dawn wanted this meeting, but clearly so did everyone else. Willow was looking at a purple notebook. She sat across from Buffy. Xander and Anya sat in the remaining chairs. They whispered to each other. Buffy supposed they were back together since Buffy tried to kill Anya. Maybe Buffy should have tried to kill her at their wedding they would have actually gotten married. At least they could be successful adults.

Giles had taken all of The Potentials on a day retreat. Buffy figured they’d all survive since it was the middle of the day. Buffy should feel relief to be alone with her friends, her family. She should like the quiet. Instead her stomach felt like led. As Dawn leaned against the counter Buffy missed her mom.

Dawn’s face looked as it had for the past two days. But it wasn’t her same old angry snit face. This angry face had stillness to it. It was a constant, like the hum of the fridge that was now filled with Costco bulk yogurt and milk fit for the thirty girls, and a middle-aged man. Buffy started to talk.

“You guys know that I may’ve been a little—“

“Totally bitchy?” Anya completed.

“Hun,” Xander barely objected.

“What?” Anya said, “I thought you said Dawn wanted us to be honest and talk about our feelings.”

Despite all The Potentials swearing they did housework the place was still a mess. Buffy was pretty sure the toilet was running upstairs.

“This isn’t just about that,” Willow said, “We need to talk about how to make things better.”

Her mom wouldn’t tolerate this mess. Her mom would know what to do. Her mother would probably be relieved that Dawn wanted to have “an open conversation with everyone” and everyone agreed. She wondered what her mother would think about having Spike chained up in the basement. She was pretty sure her mom would say it was okay to keep Spike here as long as he didn’t hurt anyone.

But, Buffy wasn’t sure what Joyce would say. Chaining your crazy ex in the basement because he was the only other warrior with super physical strength you had to fight at your side had never come up.

“I’m aware how The Potentials feel after the whole almost suicide thing with—with um—“ Buffy cringed. She knew she’d pay for not remembering the girl’s name.

And she did instantly as Dawn glowered and said, “Chloe.”

“Right,” Buffy said, she turned to her sister, “You known between my job and here I’ve probably been bombarded with a hundred new names. So, maybe people are taking it personally, but you guys need to understand. I _can’t_ be their friend. I have to be their leader. You guys—“

“Oh,” Anya said, “Is that why were here? To talk about this?”

“Well,” Willow said, “That and some other—“

“Can I go then?”

“Hun—“ Xander tried to stop Anya, but she couldn’t be stopped.

“Because I don’t think you’re a bitch because you yelled some rightfully terrified girl children that The Evil is trying to kill,” The ex-demon paused to roll her eyes, “I think you’re a bitch because you tried to kill me four days ago!”

“Was that four days ago?” Buffy asked, “It feels like a year ago and I didn’t kill you, did I? You guys have to see this isn’t any old apocalypse for me.“

“It’s isn’t for anyone,” Anya said, “But you get a free pass to be heartless. Spike gets a free pass to murder a bunch of people and attack Andrew. Andrew, who we’ve known for two seconds, even gets a free pass, and I don’t!”

“I’m _not_ getting free pass,” Buffy rose from the kitchen chair, “I have never in my life gotten a free pass. You think I’m heartless? Everything I’m doing; everything I’ve ever done, was to keep everything here going. I don’t want to be hard on these girls. I have to be. I didn’t want to have to kill you…” her eyes went over to Anya, “But if you were going to keep murdering innocent men for vengeance I _had_ to. You of all people should understand that, Anya.”

Buffy paced. Everything felt wrong. Like it was going too fast. Yet, the apocalypse hadn’t truly started. The First hadn’t made any big move since it released the Turok-Han. Buffy knew they were the original vampires, but you couldn’t talk or reason with them so, to her they just seemed like uber-strong-pointy-eared-demons.

“Why would Anya—“ Xander began.

“Because it’s just business, obviously,” Anya said, “Right, Buffy? And those frat boys weren’t innocent.”

“Yes,” she said, “It’s just business, and I know those guys weren’t a selling point for humanity, but if I let you do that to every person who—“

“If you let me—“ Anya began.

“Yes!” Buffy stopped her pacing, “I’m The Slayer. Maybe none of you can really understand it. Maybe I’m always going to be alone.”

This conversation was reminding her too much of one she had with Faith all those years ago. Faith was the only other Slayer, and she couldn’t handle it.

“Buffy,” Willow said, “I _do_ understand that. All of us do. Okay, maybe not Anya right now, but—“

“Was it just business when you were my age?” Dawn’s face held the fierce stillness as she moved into the chair Buffy left, “The age of most of these Potentials who you’re yelling at for being depressed because they’re powerless and being hunted.”

“When I was your age I—“

“You were with Angel, and you had power, and you did nothing but cry for weeks after—“ 

“After I killed him!” Buffy said, “You all seemed to be forgetting that. I loved Angel more than anything I’ve ever loved in this life. I’d have given anything up to be with him, and I killed him, because I had to, in order to save the world. Like most of them I was only seventeen, and I had no one to tell me to be ready for that, or to be ready for this!”

“You had us,” Willow said, “You had me working an ancient spell to save him. You have us n --”

“Not really; not in the end,” Buffy said, “I had you guys cheering me on to kill him. You both told me to kick his ass, re--?”

“I never said—“ Willow started.

“Why don’t we just focus on what this Scooby meeting is supposed to be about,” Xander swallowed, “Okay, what is this Scooby meeting supposed to be about?”

“Um,” Willow said, “Well, after Chloe’s suicide attempt I know Dawn, and a lot of the other girls, have ideas to share. Mental health meetings, Thai chi training, Making lighter weapons, possibly reaching out to Faith. Oh! They also want to do themed movie nights.”

Willow was doing her cute face, and trying to just brush on by. Buffy had no time for it.

“Fine,” Buffy said.

“Oh good,” Willow looked up from her pad, “I was thinking we could start with a Baz Luhrmann night, and then—“

“I really don’t mind,” Buffy said, “In fact, it’s a relief.”

Buffy _didn’t_ mind if Faith showed up. It _was_ a great relief. She was confident Faith wouldn’t kill anyone, at least not on purpose. Of course, the minute they realized Faith had turned her house into a chaotic house party it would be Buffy they came to.

“After that I vote for animal movie night,” Anya said.

“I’m just surprised,” Buffy continued.

“Really?” Willow said, “I told you I liked Romeo and Juliet even though Claire Danes has a weird crying face.”

“I mean about Faith,” Buffy said to Willow, “Because you know if you were going to break her out of jail it would require you to do a lot of magic, and I know you’re still afraid to do anything big.”

“What?” Willow said.

“Willow,” Buffy said, “What did you think? That I’m going to go break her out of jail on my day off while Xander drove the get away car? I suppose you thought we’d humanely knock out all the cops that would be after us?”

“No, I--” 

“The FBI would get involved in a jailbreak,” Dawn said.

She was very good at knowing about things like that.

“I don’t know,” Anya said, “If you did break her out of jail don’t things like cops usually end up taking care of themselves in this town during an apocalypse?”

“No, Anya,” Buffy felt her jaw clench, “Things like cops do not just--”

“You know it could happen,” Anya got a faraway look in her eyes as she held out her hands as if holding a steering wheel, “A team of cop cars is closing in on us while I do some amazing Fast and Furious driving,” she gripped Xander’s shoulder, “I’ve put aside the fact that this slutty Slayer has slept with you because I know having one more strongman increases your chances of survival and in seeing her sultry, yet trashy body, makes you realize all the class I have and you fall more in love with me.”

“Hun, I—Okay,“ Xander stopped when Anya jumped up so fast it made Buffy step back. Anya continued.

“You look into my eyes as the California sun sets; making my skin shine with its immortal youth. Thirty cop cars are closing in behind us as I speed just out of their reach,” Anya was clearly having her own themed movie night in her mind.

Buffy wanted to think it was funny. She saw Dawn smile. Anya went on.

“The unhinged Slayer screams in the backseat that she won’t be taken alive with her oily dark hair and her prison tattoos. Her hysteria threatens to get us all killed as she takes out a gun to shoot at the cop cars and Buffy’s morally obligated to wrestle it away from her.”

When Xander started to stare off dreamily Anya put a finger under his chin and turned his head towards her.

“You look only for a moment at the wrestling Slayers,” she said, “when I have to swerve the car away to avoid an advancing cop car that fires at us. Your body hits into mine and you can’t take your eyes off of me. Even though you know there’s no way out and the cops are advancing. But…when we cross over the Sunnydale border I see that a huge canyon has conveniently opened up in the ground. I speed up and jump over it while all the cop cars fall in and bam! We’re saved.”

There was a beat of silence. Just long enough for Buffy to wish she felt cheered up.

“You know it could happen,” Anya said, “As bad as the Hellmouth is, it can solve those normal people problems.”

Those weren’t normal people problems. Buffy really wanted normal people problems. Dawn’s heavy face returned.

“But then there would be dead cops,” she said.

“Peh,” Anya waived her hand, “Oh, I mean, right. Right. No. They’d get out of the canyon. I’m sure.”

“As fun as that sounds,” Willow said, “We were thinking more of a phone call. Getting Faith on speaker phone and she could scare them straight or something.”

“Because you’re suddenly such a Faith fan,” Buffy said, “I don’t think she’s going to scare anyone straight.”

“What do you mean?” Willow said.

“Forget it,” Buffy said.

“No,” Willow said, “Say it. We’re supposed to talk about how we feel.”

“I mean: It’s not _all_ The Potentials that want Faith here,” Buffy said, “I’m sure it’s Kennedy. I’m sure she saw Faith’s picture on some sketchy website and--”

“It was actually Andrew who found some website or maybe he talked to Giles or something,” Dawn said, “He’s been really annoying about it. Ranking Faith’s D&D class. Making up little stories with--”

“Why would you think it was just Kennedy who--” Willow began.

“Because Kennedy is super pushy and you’re having sex with her and she’s trying to change you,” Buffy said.

“We actually haven’t gotten to sex yet,” Willow said, “Not that it’s anyone’s business and she’s not trying to change me. She’s just trying to have a voice in—“

“Have a voice? This is the end of the world. Not a school play.”

“Buffy, the whole point of this meeting--” Dawn began.

“The point of this meeting was to tell me that I suck,” Buffy said, “But, that doesn’t mean I’m letting Willow’s new girlfriend take advantage and--

“Girlfriend?” Willow said, “I’ve known her for a month. Oh, I get it. I’m a lesbian so I have to want to marry every girl and be a pushover.”

“Well,” Dawn said, “It does feel like you’re not thinking about Tara.”

“What?” Willow sat straight and rigid in her chair.

“You guys—“ Xander began.

“I want everyone to take note that I wasn’t the one to say that,“ Anya said.

“Is that what _you_ were trying to say, Buffy?”

“No, I—“

“How can you say that?” Willow said, “I _love_ Tara. I will never stop thinking about Tara. Maybe I don’t tell all of you that because it’s all of you who never talk about Tara because you’re afraid I’ll—I’ll--”

“Go dark and end the word? It’s a valid fear,” Anya said.

“Did anyone hear something?” Xander tried to change the subject.

“Is it?” Willow glared at Buffy, “How can me ending the world over her be a valid fear when I clearly never loved her? All because I decided to have a date before the world ended.”

“Willow—“ Dawn began.

“Meanwhile, we’re supposed to understand Buffy knows more pain than us because of Angel who’s alive in LA, while she has another vampire boyfriend.”

“What did you say?” Buffy said.

“Okay—“ Xander tried.

“I said, how dare you think I don’t know pain, and that I love Tara any less while all that really happened to you in the end was that Angel broke up with you and had a kid with his ex, and Spike--“

“Okay,” Xander said, “I vote that we stop talking about hard things and never—“

“Maybe I don’t know the pain that you know, Willow,” Buffy said, “But at least I’m not afraid of my own power.”

“Right. Because you’re The Slayer,” Willow said, “All special and alone. Maybe your power is the only thing you can handle, because you couldn’t handle Spike. You can’t even handle me having a hook-up with a girl who has opinions or a phone call with Faith!”

Buffy gripped her upper arms and turned to the window. It was sunny outside. Cars drove slowly by, not knowing everything was ending.

“Maybe I couldn’t handle Spike,” she said, “Maybe I knew I could never tell you, so I told Tara. Maybe I knew if anything ever happened you would all just talk behind my back and blame me like you have.”

She turned back to all of them at the table.

“Buffy,” Willow’s face fell, “I wasn’t talking about—about what happened last year. I was talking about now with Spike and his—his crazy and how he’s all chained in the basement.“

“What happened last year?” Anya said, “Oh right. The bathroom. I forgot when she didn’t want vengeance.”

“Is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Buffy demanded to Xander.

“Buffy,” Xander said, “I’m sorry, but it’s a matter of safety. If Spike is raping people in bathrooms—“

“Spike is _not_ raping people in bathrooms or anywhere! Spike did _not_ rape me in my bathroom,” Buffy took a step towards the table, “I told him to stop. At fist he didn’t think I meant it, but he—he realized it in time before—before anything really happened.”

“Wow,” Xander said, “That’s great. Let’s give him a Ms. Magazine subscription. I saw you, Buffy and you were hurt. What difference does it make if--?”

“It makes a difference to me,” Buffy stepped back to the counter, “The person it happened to.”

“I thought you said nothing happened,” Xander said.

“I didn’t say nothing happened!” Buffy said, “I said he didn’t rape me. Do you want me to go over exactly what that means in front of my little sister so she knows—“

“Your little sister knows, Buffy,” Dawn’s face was an angry mask, “Your little sister is seventeen. Your little sister isn’t the innocent virgin you think she is.”

“What?”

“Yes,” Dawn said, “Your little sister has had bad loveless Hellmouth teen sex just like you did. And, your little sister would really appreciate you not thinking _she’s_ the stupid one when you go around forgiving every soulless monster that hurt you.”

“Well, she didn’t forgive every---“ Anya began.

“Oh right,” Dawn said, “Just the hot boys, and then she walks around here acting like we should treat her like some role model.”

“Okay,” Xander said, “I think we’ve officially crossed over from the mouth and into Hell. Why don’t we all just…Did you guys hear something?”

Buffy did hear distant footsteps. One of those stupid girls was still here. Buffy didn’t care. She gripped her mother’s dish rack that was filled with dishes. She felt the wood as she curled it around her fingers as flipped it over. Plates hit the counter with a clatter. Some spilled onto the white tile floor cracking. A robin’s egg teacup spun on the floor and made a clang-clang noise. It was from an old china set from Buffy’s childhood.

“Why don’t we all just what, Xander? What the fuck do you want from me?” Buffy said as the cup still jangled.

“Not doing stuff like that would be—“ he started.

The cup stopped whirring and lay silent next to a cracked plate.

“Buffy—“ it was Willow who was trying to be all-reasonable now.

“Do you want me to go downstairs and dust Spike and then go to LA and get Angel too? Maybe I can even kill his toddler son just in case he grows up to do something Xander doesn’t like.”

“Actually, Connor—“ Willow began.

“Seriously,” Xander said, “I heard something. Are you sure Spike is--”

“Oh, now that I’ve put you in charge you’re asking me about Spike? You’re mind was so made up when it was on me! So, now you don’t want me to kill him and Angel? You don’t want saving the entire world from evil to just be on my fighting skills?” Buffy’s throat stung.

“Do you really think the entire world is being held up by you and the two vampires you slept with?” Anya asked, and Buffy couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“ _What difference does it make_?” Buffy repeated Xander’s question, “Because clearly Xander has all the power.”

“What?” Anya’s mouth fell open.

Buffy saw the girl lurking in the doorway, like a little ghost with bad wet hair. She didn’t care.

“Xander has all the power,” Buffy repeated as she looked at her best guy friend of seven years, “Everything changes with how Xander’s eyes see it and how his mouth tells it. Willow never told me to kick Angel’s ass, did she? But, _what difference does it make_. So, tell me, what would make _you_ happy, Xander?”

“I don’t know!” Xander said, “Stopping this conversation maybe because it’s the worst one I’ve ever had and it’s not making anything better. This talking makes it better thing is a lie. I’m--”

Xander turned noticing the girl.

“Really?” Anya said, “This is the worst conversation you’ve ever had? Not the one where you broke up with me at the alter.”

“I—I just want everyone to be safe,” Xander said, “and not raped or semi-raped and not dying. If that makes me a bad person than I guess I’m--”

“Chloe,” Buffy said, to the girl, “What are you doing here?”

“You--you shouldn’t be here alone,” the minute Dawn saw the girl her whole angry face disappeared, “Are you--?”

“I’m fine,” the tiny big-eyed girl said, “Giles said I could skip the retreat so I could finally shower in private.”

“Speaking of private—“ Xander began.

Chloe entangled her hands nervously.

“Yeah,” she said, “Speaking of private, since ya know I heard all that stuff I gotta say you had no right to tell them anything.”

She stared at the floor. Buffy bent down to pick up cracked dishes. She decided she’d spend the rest of the day cleaning. That included Spike’s wounds.

“I’m sorry, Chloe but everyone had to know that you felt suicidal. For your safety,” Dawn said.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, “I was talking to him.”

Buffy turned to look at the girl and saw she was talking to Xander, who said what she was thinking:

“Huh?”

“Telling people about someone else’s assault without their permission is assaulting them again,” she said, “So is not listening to how they define it.”

“I’m sorry,” Xander said, “What?”

“She’s talking about how you told everyone about me and Spike,” Buffy felt her throat sting again, “and how _you_ decided it was rape.”

“Well,” Anya said, “Aren’t you a forward little girl?”

Chloe looked at her bare feet.

“What?” Xander sat down again, “I didn’t assault anyone. I—I helped--”

“You only help if you reported it for someone’s safety and it doesn’t sound like you did,” the girl looked up, ”It sounds like you did it cuz you were mad.”

“That’s true, Xander,” Dawn eyes moved to Xander and then to some far off place.

There was a snort. It was Chloe staring at her feet.

“You’re almost worse than he is,” she said, “You say she has no right to be some role model because of her reaction to her assault? I’d say if that’s the way you feel you don’t have the right to have her as a role model.”

When she was done she looked at Dawn.

“So, I don’t have a right to my feelings?” Dawn yelled at the girl, “You think what happened doesn’t affect me too? Her relationship choices aren’t healthy and I grew up with them, and I’m not going to re-do them.”

The girl’s wet hair still fell over one eye, like it did when it was dry. She had on a T-shirt with Winnie The Pooh.

“You can feel however you wanna feel, but do you really wanna judge? I was so angry when my mom killed herself. I hated her. It didn’t stop me from tyin’ it too. All it ever did was stop me from havin’ a life.”

“You know what also stops you from having a life?” Anya said, “Killing yourself, which Dawn saved you from so maybe—“

“It’s okay,“ Buffy said as she looked at her family, “I’m not mad at you guys. You’re right. You’re all right. The point is: I—I have to do better with The Potentials and with my choices and I will, starting now. Can you guys maybe go to Xander’s? I want to talk to Chloe alone. Slayer/Potential stuff. Quality time.”

They all looked back at her stunned, except for Anya: “Thank God,” and got up from the table. Buffy pulled her lips up into a smile.

“It’s fine,” she said, “This is good. This is all good. We’ll talk later.”

Buffy didn’t really pay attention to whatever everyone said as they left. She didn’t pay attention to what she said either. She just kept smiling. It worked. They finally all got in Xander’s van and drove off.

Buffy turned to see Chloe in the fridge. She was getting a yogurt. Buffy moved with her speed. She slapped the yogurt out of the girl’s hand.

“You have five seconds to tell me what your deal is,” she said to the kid.

“Wh—“

“You’re corporeal,” Buffy hissed as she pulled back the hair from the girl’s face, “Good. That means I can hurt you.”

She had the girl against the shelves of the open fridge. Buffy was surprised to see that the girl had two big brown human eyes.

“What are you? What kind of demon? Because I know you’re not a Potential.”

Huge tears filled the girl-things eyes.

“I am!” she said, “You have no right to tell me I’m not.”

Buffy threw the girl-thing on the floor and hovered over it.

“What are you?” she hit the girl, and she screamed, “Some spy for The First? Some wanna be Slayer? A witch?”

Buffy didn’t punch the girl thing. She was crying too much. She’d just wait for it do to it’s evil demon _fooled you_ smile and then she’d kill it.

“I’m a Potential!” the demon cried more.

“No,” Buffy said, “You—you’re some kind of monster. You have to be connected to The First, to evil. You made everyone feel sorry for you and now they’re tearing me apart! You did this! It’s all you.”

Buffy only fully realized how much that was true as she said it.

“No!” the thing cried. Its nose was now bleeding from the one punch.

“Yes!” Buffy said, “You’re the worst kind of monster. The one you invite inside.”

Buffy grabbed her mother’s good kitchen knife.

“Tell me what you are and I’ll kill you quickly,” Buffy said.

The little thing was spry. It had gotten to its feet and ran towards the basement door. Buffy was able to get between it and the door and kick low. The girl-thing dropped to its knees and covered it’s crotch moaning. 

“You’re not even a girl!” Buffy smirked, “You are so dead.”

She went towards the demon with her knife. This would be the last time she’d get betrayed today.

( Cliffhanger!!!)


	4. All You've Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike helps out a 15 year-old Potential who's not just a girl. When Buffy makes a big mistake she realizes she has to call in a favor. One small change changes everything...

All You've Got

Spike didn’t think his ears were betraying him this time.

“Help me!” her voice all raspy-young cried out to him in Buffy’s basement.

It was the little girl.

She had been real, Spike was fairly sure. 

She was a sweet girl who liked talking teddy bears; a Potential that had snuck down to here to see him and ask him questions. Hadn’t he helped her enough?

“How dare you!” Buffy’s voice was angry through the door of her basement.

Good. Whatever was up there she could handle it. But…

“Help, Spike! Help me!” The little girl was asking him for help, specifically.

She shouldn’t be doing that. What even was he? A demon who fell in love and hurt the girl. Spike knew he deserved a lot worse than being chained on a comfy mattress next to a rattling dryer that smelled like damp rust and fabric softener. But, he was unchained. Had the little girl done that? He couldn’t remember.

He remembered the girl’s interesting problem and the questions she asked him. Chloe was her name. She was a brave little toaster. There was a time he’d enjoy eating her up. He usually gave the young ones to Dru, but he probably would have taken her for himself because--- No! No! No! But, yes. He would have done all that. He had done worse things. So much worse.

“Spike!” He was most likely hallucinating again, but he might as well check and do a sneak peak up the stairs.

When he got to the top of the stairs he opened the door and blinked because what he was seeing had to be wrong.

“Spike!” the girl cried.

She was under Buffy. Buffy was about to stab the girl in the heart with a kitchen knife. Spike bounded over and gripped Buffy’s arm before she could thrust the knife to the child’s throat.

“Spike, no,” Buffy elbowed him hard and he lost his grip.

Buffy drew the knife down, but the girl rolled away, and Buffy only succeeded in stabbing the white tile kitchen floor. Spike grabbed for Buffy again and got ahold of her. She had to be in the throws of the spell. He hoped to God it wasn’t a love spell again. A few weeks ago he had to tackle her before she could murder her boss over a boy.

Spike gripped her wrists and held her soft cotton shirt to his chest. He probably should have a shirt on too. He didn’t want Buffy to think he’d come up here to hurt her.

“Buffy,” he said, “Don’t hurt the girl.”

“Spike,” Buffy head-butted him, “It’s not a girl! It’s a demon. Don’t be a tool!”

His nose and mouth blossomed with pain and it brought something good to his head. Clarity. He was William The Bloody; the vampire who was obsessed with Slayers, the one who never quit. Especially, when Slayers were acting rash. Spike grabbed Buffy’s arm and spun her back to him.

“Buf—“ She punched him and he rocked back on his feet. Alright this was a bit of overkill.

“Or if you’re going to be a tool be _my_ tool,” she said to him, “Not a tool of evil.”

He kicked the knife up from the floor and held it pointed down.

“I was never _anyone’s_ tool, love,” he said to the woman he loved. Then he turned to the girl, “It’s alright, Chloe.”

Buffy’s eyes were wide as she looked at him with hurt. The girl scrambled to her feet. He knew Chloe was bleeding somewhere, but not badly. He put the knife in his back pocket. He seemed to always be losing his shirt, but he hadn’t stayed alive for almost a century and half to know pants with pockets could be needed at any moment.

“I’d say I’m your slave,” Spike said to Buffy, “That makes me a person. A person who can’t let you murder a girl because you’re not thinking right. When was the--”

He had to duck to avoid Buffy’s punches. Buffy backed him out of the kitchen and into the living room. It was about 4PM. As his luck would have it all the windows were closed.

The house was empty, which didn’t seem right. It never was these days. Something was wrong.

“Is everyone else dead?” he asked, “You really shoulda come and got me.”

“Why?” she said as she swung wildly, “You’re crazy and—and easy to manipulated and—“

“Ey!” he said, “I’ll give you crazy. I mean, I did get a soul after not having one for a bit, and then I was tortured at the mouth of Hell by a thing that can look like any dead person, and when you’ve killed as many—Ow!“

The bare skin on his back began to tingle painfully. He realized he had backed his arse up into that spot in the living room where the sun bounced into the room through the blinds.

“Shut-up!” Buffy tackled him out of the column of sunlight and rolled him away from it behind the couch. Then she hit him in the jaw with a mild punch. He could help but feel care for.

“Not until I’ve made my point,” he said as he looked up at her as she hovered over him, “which is I’m _not_ easy manipulated. The First had to black me out entirely before I—“

“Shut-up! Shut-up!” she said as she pinned his hands on either side of his head, “I know that! But—but, you’re weak, and just--Don’t make me hurt you like I did everyone—“

Buffy suddenly fell to the side after a flash of bright blue came at her and crashed into her head.

“Chloe! Balls!” Spike said to the ninety pound Potential standing there.

Chloe had clocked Buffy in the head with the football helmet that they used in a pinch for a motorcycle helmet.

“I couldn’t let her kill you. Not aft—“

Buffy rose and ran at Chloe with a yell. They were back in the kitchen. Spike jumped up with an eye roll. He had to get up and stop it and he knew he was going to have to go through the column of sunlight.

“Ow! Ow!” he said as he ran into the kitchen.

“… him alone!” Buffy had hold of Chloe against the kitchen sink.

“Ow! Just—“ Spike yelled to Buffy as his skin smoked.

“Stop! Spike,” Buffy said, “You’re on fire.”

He felt the relief of cool water on his back. He turned to see Chloe spraying him with the kitchen sink dish hose.

“If you’re going to kill me do it quick,” Chloe said to Buffy, “But, I couldn’t let you kill him. Not after he helped me.”

“No one is killing anyone!” Spike said, “We don’t kill people in this house.”

Buffy’s face had softened, but then it went hard again.

“Spike,” Buffy said, “The First sent her. She’s not a Potential! She’s not even a girl!“

Oh no. Why hadn’t he realized this had happened?

“Yes, I am!” Chloe cried, “I—I’m not a demon. I’m not evil. The Bringers were after me. They killed--”

“Buffy, listen to me,” Spike said, “She’s just a girl. Well, not _just_ a girl, but—it’s- The Slayer blood runs in her like it does you.“

“I don’t know if I’m like her. Look how bad I am at fighting,” Chloe’s eyes shed new tears.

He could see blood had come from her nose. Oh no.

“That’s not true,” Spike said, “You’re still alive.”

“She’s slippery,” Buffy’s voice was a dead calm.

“Spike,” Chloe moved to the door that led to the backyard, “I—I have to go. So, I have to open the door.”

When the door opened the sun would pour in.

“No, you don’t. It’s okay,” Buffy’s stance relaxed, “It’s okay. I—I understand now. I—I—God. I understand.”

“Let me clean you up, piglet,” he said.

Spike wet a washcloth from the kitchen drawer. He wet it and took it to Chole’s nose and face. She only flinched slightly. He felt his own face turn into his demon face due to the blood. Chloe’s eyes widened but she didn’t flinch again.

“So, was your sister a Potential?” Buffy was pacing again, “Did the Bringers kill her? Was her name Chloe? You can tell--”

“I did tell you—“ Chloe’s body became rigid.

“Slayer, maybe save your questions for the end,“ Spike said.

He could feel Buffy’s eyes on him. He kept his face human and took the washcloth away.

“I’m Chloe and I _am_ a girl,” Chloe said, “and I am a Potential. But, you, you’re just like them!”

“Li—“ he tried, but Chloe’s eyes were on him now and she was furious.

“You said she wasn’t like The Council, Spike, and you were right. She’s a Bringer. Only worse. She’s blind but she thinks she sees everything.”

“Look at you,” Spike crossed his arms, “All poetic with the metaphors. I never said she wasn’t slow, cutie. You gotta give her extra time to catch on but once she does there’s nobody better.”

“We don’t—“ the girl began.

“So,” Spike turned to Buffy, “You may’ve guessed Chloe and I had a chat this morning.”

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but Spike could see all the certainty had fall out of her. He hated this face on her. He just had to keep on.

“Chloe got wind I was a bit of a Slayer enthusiast. So, she had her chance to ask me some questions. Questions about whether there were ever any Slayers like _her._ Slayers that knew they were girls in boy bodies, _”_ Spike said, “and I told her I heard stories of it twice.”

And he _had_ heard of stories of it twice. The Slayer named Eleanor/John in 14th Century England. He had tried to leave out the fact that she was a sex worker but it kind of slipped out. Then there was the story of the Apache Warrior, who was Two-Spirited but he didn’t know much about that one. There was another one that was too sad and controversial to tell even though everyone knew it already. The boy one. Poor Joan.

“But, it’s hard to know because The Council never recognized them,” Chloe said as she looked down at the bandage Spike and put on her, “The Council threw me out too. They made me feel like a freak, but I’m girl enough for The Bringers to want to kill me, and I guess not enough of a girl for you to want to kill me.”

“No—“ Buffy began.

“You know,” Spike said, “Buffy was once in the wrong body.”

“I know,” Chole said, “The hot Slayer’s body. It’s not the same.”

Oh bugger.

“It’s not,” he said, “But—“

“The ‘hot’ Slayer?” Buffy pouted, “She’s—“

“Funny, how all these stories are getting out,” Spike knew he had to shut this down fast, “Who even knows what’s true with those? Doesn’t matter. Just know what’s true for you.”

“Okay, so…,” Buffy paced again. When she got near Chloe the girl flinched. “I’m not going to hurt—“

“You almost killed me!” she said, “You would have if Spike hadn’t—if Spike. You almost killed us both!”

“I wasn’t going to kill Spike,” Buffy said, “and I wanted to kill you because I thought you were an evil demon that was destroying my life. Not because I thought—I thought—“

“--because you thought I was a boy,” Chloe said, “So what? You thought I was an evil lying demon because you thought I was a boy. So what’s--”

“But she didn’t kill you, did she?” Spike said, “She made a mistake, and after all that’s happened you can understand why. You can go off and tell all your mean little girlfriends but if you do, she’s not going to be able to help you, or any of them.“

“Are you kidding, and have one of _them_ try to kill me?” she looked at Buffy, “You think all The Potentials are on the same page, against you. But, everyone’s all over the place.”

“I’d never let them hurt you, Chloe,” Buffy said.

“You just—“

“She wouldn’t; she won’t; I won’t, okay,” Spike said, “But, of course we’re not going to tell people about your life. Wouldn’t be right no matter what. But, you do have those friends that know and would stand by you, right? Allies.”

“Kennedy, Vi, and Rona,” the girl nodded.

“The loud lesbian, the scared redhead, and the brave one with the braids?”

“That’s them,” the girl said, “I think Amanda knows too, and she’s find with it. She’s in the straight-gay alliance at Sunnydale High, so that usually means she’s safe.”

“You’re safe with me too,” Buffy said, “You have to understand with The First and—and my lack of sleep, and-and The First pretending to be Potentials I---“

“Buffy was in the very first straight-gay alliance at Sunnydale High,” Spike said.

“Okay, fine,” Chloe said unconvinced, “So can I ask you something? Do you think it would be okay if I watched some MTV before everyone got back?”

“Jackass?” Spike asked.

“True Life,” she said.

Right. The show that showed all different types of people. It may’ve been the only way the girl could figure out what she was.

“Wait,” Buffy said, “I think we can’t leave her alone in case she kills herself.”

The girl scoffed.

“Love,” Spike drawled, “I think she’s proven she wants to live.”

“Right,” Buffy said, “Um, sure, go watch MTV.”

Chloe left the kitchen like any sullen teenage girl. Then Buffy immediately started cleaning her kitchen like a suppressed housewife. When Buffy felt shame was when she was most dangerous, to herself.

“Was it hard?” she looked down as if she was taking to the counter.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“Resisting her blood?” Buffy stole a look at him, “It’s good. I mean, it’s good that you know for sure with that but--”

“I—I don’t really look at it like that. Resisting. I mean, of course, my body is going to react to it, but if you have a hamburger in front of you and it’s covered in death and maggots do you really want it? No,” he scrubs his hands, “You’re stomach turns.”

He paused when he heard Chloe laugh at the TV from the living room.

“They don’t need to bleed for me to know,” he said to Buffy, “They all—there’s a certain smell and something in the way you all move. No, react.”

“Oh,” Buffy avoided his eyes, “It’s funny. You—you’re talking about me and The Potentials like we’re the same and—“

“Look, love,” he said, “I know you have no reason to trust me especially after—“

“How can you say that?” Buffy said.

“You know when I say you and these little girls have similarities I don’t mean—“

“Not that! That—that’s actually good information to know. Obviously, because if you didn’t know that…I meant of course I trust you. You stopped me from murdering a fifteen-year-old child. A girl, who I didn’t even see as a girl. A girl like me, a Potential. I would have killed her and—and said she was a demon if you hadn’t—I’d be a murderer! A child murderer!” 

Here came the shame. Her eyes flooding with tears cut him like glass.

“You just made a mistake,” he said, “It happens.”

“No!” she smacked her hand with her fist., “Not to me. Not mistakes like that.”

“So,” he said, “This was almost your biggest mistake. You’ve had some doozies. I mean, my god, you had sex with Angel, who does that? ”

“Faith!” She was pacing again.

“I didn’t think they---“

“I—I could have just been like Faith,” she said.

She moved to the basement door and looked at him to follow before she descended down the steps

“Buffy,” was all he said, and he followed her down to the basement.

“If you hadn’t been there I would have been worse than her,” Buffy said, “I would have killed a child because--.”

“Number one, you could never be worse than her,” he said, “If you had killed that girl I really don’t see you saying ‘Sod all,’ and then going to work for The Big Bad, like she did. Do you? If so, please tell me because getting this soul was a waste.”

He was rewarded with a smile as she went towards the ever-going washer and dryer.

“I don’t see it either. I like being my own boss too much. But, it--it wasn’t that simple with Faith. I mean, she did—“

“It never is,” he said, “and I don’t care about her.”

She smiled again. Then frowned. “I should—“

“Buffy, listen this, this apocalypse isn’t like the others. This is a war. Now, I know you’ve fought those Knights of Bullocks when that bitch-god came but-- ” Spike said.

Oh no. He said something wrong. Her face fell. She turned away from him and strained on her toes to reach something on the high shelf above the washer dryer. When he saw she was straining for a blue and white duffle bag he got it for her.

“And I really didn’t care if any of them died either,” she said, “I never stopped to think about how many of them I got—“

“Alright!” he yelled, “This stops now! This is not how wars are won. You are fighting evil and you are good. I know that’s what everyone’s believed in every war on every side, but you, my great lady, have the wonderful fortune of it being literally true so…”

“So,” she said, “I should just forget that I was almost a child murderer. A homophobic child murderer.”

“What?” he said.

“That—that was a great story you told her about me being in the first gay-straight alliance at high school, but, there was no gay-straight alliance when I went to high school. I—I don’t even know when they started that—and—and I work there. On top of that; I’m old and--”

“Right. You work there,” he said, “But, only because you have to guard the Hellmouth so all those stupid kids don’t die. So, you’re a little busy.”

She shook her head and opened the dryer and shoved the bundle of clothes in the old duffle bag.

“Willow was right,” she said. “She was right about how I thought of her and Kennedy and Tara. I—Everyone was right! I can’t do this. I—I am the wrong person to do this. I have to—“

Spike grabbed the duffle bag and emptied it with an angry grunt. Then he threw it back up on the high shelf. She looked at him incredulous.

“Sorry,” he said, “Actually, no I’m not sorry. You’re not leaving! I—I just know that I’m that last person that should be doing this.”

“What exactly—“ she began.

“I’m the last person that should be getting physical with tough love, but sadly, I’m all you’ve got. Because it sounds like your friends are beings selfish sodding twats again. Big surprise, and these aren’t even dry.”

He put the clothes back in the dryer and restarted it.

“I knew those Scoobies would get bratty again with the good witch gone,” he said as he looked at the dryer dial, “You know, she may’ve been quiet but she kept them inline, and me. She was a good egg. And, I really don’t recall you being phobic of her. In fact, I remember you letting her and the scary witch stay here rent free in the Master bedroom while you--“ Spike stopped when he heard Buffy sob.

She was turned away from him only an inch. It was torture. Why didn’t he ever keep his mouth shut?

“Itwasnfree,” she muttered into her hands.

“What?” he said.

If he reached out he could touch her. He could turn her around and hold her but…Before he could think her body crashed into him. She put her arms around him in that soft cotton shirt. For an instant she pressed her tear-streaked face into his chest. She looked up it him with those pixie-round eyes.

“It wasn’t rent free,” she said, “They gave all the money they could when I died, but they only had work study jobs and---“

“Okay. Now I am sorry,” he said as he carefully put his arms around her, “Stick to the subject, Spike. What—what was I saying?“

He knew it had been important, but with her arms around him it was hard to think. Why had he brought up the good dead witch?

“You were saying you are all I’ve got to snap me out of this because I’ve been so horrible to everyone, but I’m all that they’ve got to stay alive so I better get my shit together.”

She let go of him, but her face was still inches from his.

“What?” Spike said, “No. That’s not what I was going to say at all. I was going to say you’re the one to do this. The best person for this job. The only person for this job. You can win this war, Buffy. You’re going to have to be the Chosen Slayer and teach these girls what that Potential means. But, you can’t do it if you start worrying about hurting these girls’ feelings. You need to get someone else worry about their feelings.”

She looked at him. Her brows raised her mouth formed a sad grin. The look was more powerful than words.

“I mean,” Spike had ten different kinds of butterflies in his stomach, “Someone who didn’t make a habit of killing them for over century and preferably someone who was sane last week. I think I know a nice Watcher who’s staying here and a pretty tough girl that threatened to set me on fire if I hurt you.”

“What? Who—“

“Dawn,” he said, “She’s good with feelings and all that.”

“and as far as your sodding friends and their feelings fuck em’ if they—“

“I—I know what I have to do next,” she turned into her pocket and got out her new flip phone, “and really, I should have done it right away.”

“What’s that?” he said, “See. I’m not going to say ‘Who ya gonna call?’”

“Angel,” she said with a smile.

“Okay,” he said, “When I said to who cares about hurting feelings I didn’t mean mine but—“

“No, silly,” she said giving him a mock swat that didn’t quite touch him, “It’s nothing like that. I have to call him so he can warn Faith that people are tying to kill Slayers and Potentials.”

Did she just call him _silly_?

“Oh, thank god,” he said, “I thought maybe you were calling him to help with the emotional management of teenage girls.”

“No,” she said, “I mean. He did help Faith, but it wasn’t like she was a real teenager. I—I can’t even imagine him talking to most of these girls. He’d just tell them their in horrible mortal danger and disappear when they had questions.”

She laughed an honest laugh. It was a liberating bell of a sound.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’m picturing a girl asking him why she couldn’t flush tampons and another asking ‘How do you know if you have herpes?’ Like one did at work.”

“I think his body would just burst into flames to protect itself,” Spike said.

She laughed again.

“If only they were all just homicidal/suicidal and wanted to have sex with him like Faith. Then he’d be fine.”

“Maybe he’d fall in love with one of the sixteen year old ones,” he said.

She glowered at him.

“Too far?”

“Yeah,” she said, “But, thank you, for staying you, Spike.”

She touched his face for a second.

“Since I’m staying myself are you sure you need to call him for Faith?” Spike said, “If anyone can take care of herself it’s that girl.”

*


	5.      The Definition of Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In prison Faith dreams of Buffy and shares what she's been up to.  
> Dream Buffy isn't impressed.  
> Buffy/Faith (Fuffy) angst with some plot advancement.

The Definition of Insanity 

“Help!” Faith screamed in her dream.

She watched herself naked and panicking.

The rain poured down her bare body as she crawled out from the ground. The deep green grass mixed with the mud that covered her from digging herself out of her grave.

“Where is everyone?” her younger self demanded, “What the fuck!”

Faith used to have the dream of digging herself out of some Sunnydale grave all the time. As if anyone would ever buy her a headstone there. But, this dream was different.

She usually wasn’t naked or quiet so freezing. As she watched herself she could feel the cold and the rain. _Can’t you have any sympathy for that young girl who was all alone?_ \- That’s what Laura would ask her; her red hair all-tight in a bun. _You’re The One to save her from her nightmares. The best thing to do in these dreams is to take control when you can._

Faith went into her body. She imagined clothes for this younger self of hers. Everyone deserved to be clothed and dry, right? She made a calm sunset and sat on the grassy hill looking at it. Faith felt the girl come up and sit beside her as she kept looking at the sunset.

“Hi Faith,” the girl said.

“Hi B,” Faith looked only at the sunset, “I always wonder if you dream of me as much as I dream of you.”

This was some great dream control. She wanted to tell Laura about it. Then she remembered how badly she had screwed things up with her prison shrink.

“Do you wonder if I’m naked in my dreams with you?” the B asked.

Faith looked down to see that she was naked again as she sat with her legs out in the grass.

“Huh,” she said and felt her lips pull into a smile.

Faith turned to the other Slayer in her dream. Buffy Summers looked one of two ways in Faith’s dreams. She looked as she did now. Her hair was just to her shoulders was the color on Minute Maid Lemonade. Her body was sun kissed. Or she was the other one, hair up too-thin sensible blond Buffy had become after Faith woke up from her coma.

Buffy scooted up, blond as sunshine and smelling like sweet wheat.

“Not as much as I used to,” Faith said, “But, I’m not—“

Faith moved into kiss the other Slayer’s lips. She knew they would taste like a perfect teenage bubblegum flavored dream. She didn’t care if she was the naked one anymore. Of course, Faith would still tell all the boys she had to be on top to keep them in line, but B could do whatever B wanted. She could lay Faith down in the grass and—

Suddenly, B was no longer over her as Faith’s body slammed into something hard.

“So,” B stood over her now with her long hair up and leather jacket on, “Even when you’re sleeping you find ways to use me. To make me a victim.”

Hard stone hit against Faith’s back, and now colder rain pouring down her body. She heard women laughing. She had crashed into the brick wall of Buffy’s college. The college girls were laughing at Faith. She could see outlines of them in the sun. It was only raining on Faith.

Or was it one girl laughing? Now Faith was in a college stadium classroom. She was wearing a catholic school uniform. Buffy was up on the lecture stage dressed in a man’s suit with a bowtie. A movie played to the empty room. It was Faith with her prison shrink, Laura.

Faith kissed Laura and laid her down on the metal desk. Laura laughed. Laura _was_ so happy. But, it would only take minutes until it turned into guilt and horror. Faith had to look away.

“Hmm,” Buffy Summers said haughty in all her five-foot-nothing glory on the stage, “What do you think?”

She turned to her assistant professor who was Wes. Only Wes was dressed like Buffy in jeans and a halter-top as Buffy was dressed like Wes.

“Kill the whore,” Wes said.

Okay, Faith had really lost control of this dream.

Suddenly, Faith was standing at The Bronze, The Sunnydale nightclub, in her black halter-top with the mesh see-through neck. It was what she wore her first night there. But, she wasn’t feeling the Southie-tuff-girl-act now as teenagers danced. She pushed back against the crowd as Buffy stalked up to her in a denim jacket and a bowie knife. Faith’s bowie knife.

“No!” Faith cried as Buffy plunged the knife into her.

Buffy always stabbed her in the gut. But this time she didn’t. This time she stuck the knife somewhere else. Faith looked down. The knife wasn’t in her pussy. It was right above her pussy, her uterus. Yeah, Faith knew she had a uterus. _You’re smart, Faith. You just have ADHD. No, that’s not another word for stupid._ Laura had said. Faith remembered this was a dream. A very symbolic dream.

Maybe Faith’s mind couldn’t go that dark. It couldn’t picture Buffy Summers stabbing her in the pussy. Her mind wasn’t as bad as she thought. Her mind was a bit of a pussy.

“Ha,” she said out loud to dream Buffy, “My mind is too much of a pus-“

“Shut up!” she said, “Don’t you even care about what you did?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Faith said.

The Bronze disappeared. There was no other sound but B’s voice.

“It’s not that you kill people, Faith” Buffy said, “It’s that you destroy everyone you care about without even trying. You’re no hero! No giver of life! You don’t even have a working one of these.”

As Buffy spoke she drew the knife further up Faith’s lower abdomen where her uterus would be. This was a dream.

“Damn,” Faith said, “This _is_ getting pretty dark.”

“You do know reality is about to get much darker,” B said.

“I do,” Faith said, “and in reality I still miss this knife.”

She pulled the knife out of her belly. It made a metal clanging sound that only dream logic could make. They were back in the rainy cemetery.

“And I know I’m the bad one. Forever and always,” Faith said, “But, I can’t let you kill me. I won’t.”

“Why?” Buffy’s face pulled into rage.

“Because my life is worth something,” she said. She shoved Buffy back, “Because I matter even if I make mistakes.”

“No you don’t,” B said, “The only thing that matters are your mistakes.”

“Even if I don’t matter,” Faith said, “I can still do something with this life. Something worthwhile. I can save someone.”

Faith remembered what Laura had told her. Why she thought Laura had started to dig her in the first place. _You have no idea how much you’ve changed things around here for everyone! Why aren’t you giving yourself more credit?_

“No, I _have_ saved people,” Faith said, “I’ve saved-- “

Before she could picture her triumph in her mind she was slammed into another grave. Faith saved all the women in the prison. She did what she had to do to get all the guards who had been “favors for sex” out of this place. It was her first prison lesson but not her first lesson about power. A favor wasn’t a favor if you really couldn’t say no. It was rape.

“Yeah, right,” Buffy stalked up to Faith again, “How many of them were just like you? They didn’t want to be saved. They didn’t ask to be saved. They were mad at you for your _saving_ because they were literally asking for it.”

Faith got up and drew back her fists as Buffy approached. It was raining again and Faith felt smooth stone against her back. She stood with her back to a gravestone.

“A couple were like that, yeah,” Faith said as she grabbed ahold of the slightly smaller girls arm, “But, they weren’t asking for it!”

Buffy grunted as Faith lifted her up. Faith threw Buffy’s body into the open grave.

“They were making the best out of a shitty situation!” She yelled into the hole after Buffy’s falling body, which fell with a thud. B did her little grunt of pain.

“They were mistaking abuse for love,” Faith said as she watched Buffy climb out of the square hole, “No one is _ever_ asking for that, B! For _it_!”

Buffy reached the top of the open grave and slowly got up. She was in yet another outfit. Some white hippy dress with not a speck of dirt on it. Faith kicked her and when Buffy fell to the ground it became a wooden floor.

“That’s what you’ve never understood!” Faith said.

Buffy bounced up and hit Faith, but Faith barely felt it as she advanced forward.

“What you’ll never understand!” Faith continued, “And that’s why…”

Faith was on top of the other Slayer now as she was in yet another costume change. Something black and white with a hood.

“That’s why you couldn’t save me,” Faith said, “You’ll always think we had the same choices and the fleeting times when you realize we didn’t you were so much worse because then…”

Buffy kicked Faith off of her. Faith drew in a breath. Then she laughed. Buffy Summers was dressed as a sexy nun. They were in a church. Faith got up.

“Oh, Faith. I feel sorry for you,” Buffy clasped her hands chastely, “I did everything to help—“

“No!” Faith roared and pushed the other Slayer, “I don’t want your fucking pity! And if you really wanted to help me, you wouldn’t have put that guy’s death all on me! You wouldn’t have kept saying _I_ killed a man. I did. But, you threw him at me!”

Faith was able to grab the small girl again and throw her. Buffy yelped and hit a wall. It was the wall of her adorable teen bedroom. Buffy slid down the wall and sat in a cute denim jumper and tights. Faith was filled with fury.

“All you ever wanted was to be the better Slayer,” Faith’s throat ached, “The better girl, the one everyone loved, while you used me as your good time, as your excuse.”

“C’mon, Faith,” Buffy wiped her bloody nose and hit Faith in the jaw, “You _were_ asking for—“

“I know!” Faith yelled. She tasted blood in her mouth but it was muted and thin like water. She ignored that and advanced on Buffy in the upstairs hall, “I know. Because I knew that was the best I could get from you, but, it was supposed to be you and me against the world, B and the fucking second it got hard you threw me away!”

Faith kicked Buffy square in the chest. Buffy tumbled down the stairs. She lay motionless at the bottom of the brown carpet. The house held utter silence.

“B?” Faith called.

Faith hadn’t blinked whens she was at the top of the stairs again. This time Buffy grabbed her arms and twisted her. This time they slid down the stairs with Buffy on top.

“That’s my girl,” B said, “Blaming me, the innocent suburban girl, for what you are. What you always were.”

“No,” Faith said, “B, I’m not—“

“--not taking any responsibility because you can’t, can you?” B said, “You know you’re completely out of control, and the minute you get back out there you’ll just do it again.”

Faith got up and stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“No,” Faith said, “I take full re—“

Glass crashed over Faith’s head. Faith turned to see where the object had come from. A pretty blond woman stood with a cracked vase.

“No you don’t, Faith,” it was Buffy’s mother, “You’re psychotic.”

“Joyce, I—“ Faith’s mouth went dry, “You—your dead.”

“That’s right,” she said, “You’ll never get to tell me your sorry. But you could.”

“How?” Faith said.

Buffy came to stand with her mother and put her arm around her.

“If you were really good you’d kill yourself,” B said.

Blood poured out of Faith’s lower stomach wound. Her knife was back in it.

“You should,” Joyce said, “It’s not like you could ever be like me. A mother.”

Suddenly, Buffy’s house was filled with girls. Faith knew they were all Potential Slayers.

“Kill yourself! Kill yourself!” They chanted.

_Don’t engage with them, Faith. When has that ever worked?_

Faith smiled.

“Damn,” Faith said, “I-I’m acting insane.”

“Right,” Buffy said as the girls chanted, “You’re insane. You know it. So why bother?”

She was alone with B.

“I said I’m _acting_ insane,” Faith said, “Doing the same shit over and over. Fighting the same fight in my head. Trying to prove to you I’m good enough and I won’t do it anymore because you’re not you, B.”

B frowned.

“You’re just that shitty part of me that will never shut up,” Faith said.

“Right,” B smiled, “and the only way to stop it is to---“

Faith took her knife and held it to dream Buffy’s throat.

_Slap!_ Faith felt heavy. Her head was tight. Her ass was freezing and aching because it had just been slammed onto the tile floor. She was in the showers. She must have fallen asleep again.

“Stay back!” there was a baton in her face and the frightened new guard on the other end of it. Shit.

“Did I—“ Faith began.

“I said: stay back!” the guard knocked her in the ribs.

Faith wanted to lunge for the man and rip his head off. She unclenched her fists and shivered on the shower floor with nothing but a sandpaper white towel between her and the guard’s weapon. One lesson Faith knew she learned was: Proving you were a bad ass when the other person had the power really made you a dumb ass. But, sometimes you had to fight back to survive. It looked like this was going to be one of those times.

“Alan! Did you just hit a sleeping inmate?” It was Eddie.

Faith’s body untangled with relief.

“She’s dangerous when she has those dreams, sir,” he said.

“What?” Eddie said.

“She fell asleep and she wouldn’t wake up,” the young guard said, “What—what was I supposed to do?”

“If you’re that scared of her you shouldn’t be here,” Eddie said, “Get out of here and wait in my office.”

The new guard left. Faith sat up and tightened her towel.

“Can I help you up?” Eddie asked.

Faith took his hand. If you had told her a few years back one of her greatest achievements would be taking down a corrupt prison guard sex ring and her best friend would be a good guard that helped, she’d never believe it. Yay. Progress.

“What happened?” Eddie asked as Faith sat on the wooden bench, “Are you okay?”

“I think I fell asleep and missed shower time. But no one messed with me. I think some of em’ were spraying water at me to wake me up. But it was no big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean. Everyone knows better than to really mess with you,” Eddie said, “I mean, are you _okay_?”

“Well, Ed,” Faith said, “I don’t know if you heard but I am in prison for man slaughter for over two years and I’m only 22, and I have bad dreams that make me dangerous.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess they need to find a new prison shrink,” he said.

Eddie was the bomb, but he wasn’t into talking about all the deep stuff.

“Yeah,” Faith said, “I’ll make sure to go easy on the next one so they don’t quit.”

“Lehane,” he waived his hand, “Don’t take it personal. They quit all the time…and I think you were her favorite.”

“Yeah,” she said and looked down at the cracked tile.

She then quickly looked away. She didn’t want to remember what she dreamed. She knew it was bad. She didn’t really want to remember reality either, but at least here it mattered if she tried.

“I’ll tell them to get me if you fall asleep again. And as far as being in prison at 22, look at it this way,” Eddie said, “You’re young. You’re only missing out on being stupid out there.”

“So I can be stupid in here and miss shower time,” she said.

“Lehane,” he said, “You can take a shower.”

“Really?” she said.

“After everything you’ve done we don’t need you smellin’ up the place,” he said, “Go on.”

“Thanks, Eddie!”

In prison showering alone was such a treat it could even cheer you up after a nightmare you didn’t want to remember.

But, the minute Eddie left Faith knew she wasn’t alone. That was prison for you, never alone, and then when you were it was some Watcher thinking he was being all-stealth wearing black thinking he could kill you. Not today, Watchers.


	6. His

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia and Angel both doubt each other's choices after a battle with The Beast badly injures Connor. Snarkiness, anger, double standards, and love all ensue as they rely on some strangers and inter-dimensional magic for Connor and more of The Fang Gang. Angel's POV.

His

“I told him today was our day,” Cordy said as she followed Angel down the hallway of the 1940s apartment complex.

Connor was strong. He would be okay.

Angel carried his son rapped in some tapestry or towel. He didn’t even remember getting something to rap his son in. Connor was entirely limp, but Angel could still hear the feint beating of his unconscious son’s heart.

Maybe Connor was immortal. Then he’d definitely be okay.

The boy felt lighter than the last person he cradled in his arms, lighter than he should. Angel didn’t want to think about why. He didn’t want to smell his child’s charred flesh.

Connor couldn’t die like this. He had to be okay.

“Because it was!” Cordelia continued.

Cordelia was right on Angel’s heels. He knew running with Connor might hurt him, and that there was really no point. This was either going to work or…This was going to work.

The walls of the scant apartment lobby were slate and painted an abysmal shade of blue-green. The smooth speckled tile floors were scuffed with years of dragging shoes.

“It was supposed to be our day together. That was what was supposed to happen!” Cordelia’s voice echoed in empty apartment complex.

He didn’t know what she was talking about it and he didn’t want to know. Lilah reported that Gunn and Wesley were already here getting treated. So, Angel just had to focus on getting Connor here. Angel had a feeling that here wasn’t really “here.” Normally he didn’t trust inter-dimensional magic much and he trusted Lilah Morgan far less. But, this apocalypse wasn’t just making strange bedfellows. It was twisting together some painful ones.

“So now what?” Cordelia demanded.

Angel found the elevator doors. They had been painted over in the abysmal blue green along with the wall, but the doors were visible as well as the old fashioned arrow dial above it. Angel sat on the round lime green tufted lobby sofa with is son in his lap facing the elevator. Cordelia sat near them. Her body turned away from Angel as both she and the couch’s shape demanded it.

“I told you,” he said, “We have to wait. Someone will come down. I told you that, right?”

He honestly couldn’t remember. He remembered convincing Connor to come and fight The Beast with Wes, Gunn, and Lorne. Gunn had figured out where The Beast. By then Angel had been at Connor’s place trying to explain to him and Cordy that he realized this apocalypse had to be bigger than just The Beast. Cordelia didn’t trust it.

“I don’t trust any of this,” she said now as she nervously tapped her feet.

Cordy hadn’t wanted Connor to go fight The Beast with Angel. She had wanted Connor to stay with her. Connor told Cordy that fighting The Beast was his best chance and protecting her. She had insisted on coming with them.

“But you trusted yourself,” Angel shifted to look at her, “and that—that was good.”

“Angel,” she said with every worry line on her heart-shaped face, “I don’t know what I did back there, but I know it’s keeping his pain down and he’s alive so…”

After Angel managed to get Connor free of the fireball he really thought his son was dead. There was too much noise, burning, and commotion to hear anything. That was when Cordelia became surrounded by a glowing white light and threw her arms around Connor.

“So,” he said, “Maybe try it again.”

Angel didn’t care what Cordy had done or how it worked. He just cared that it probably saved his boy.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said bitterly “Don’t you think if I could do anything else, including give up my own life, I wouldn't?”

Cordy’s voice rose in pain.

“He’s going to be alright,” he said.

Cordelia got up and stood in front of Angel. She stood at the V of his sprawled legs. Connor lay in his lap between them.

“Look at him, Angel,” she said, “Look at him! You can’t can you? You never could.”

She was right. Angel was avoiding looking at his son’s charred body with slashes of crimson blood sprawled over it. He didn’t have to look. He could smell it. He could feel it. He had seen enough burnt people to know that there were places where his clothes had burned with his flesh and fused together.

“Cordelia,” he said, “I—I’m going to make it right, okay?”

He _would_ make it right. He’d sell his soul. He knew he had to have something to offer and tonight he was going to offer it up. It they wouldn’t take it, or if they tried to jerk him around, he’d kill them all. Whoever they were. Whatever they were.

“You better,” she said, “Because I heard what you said to him, and I—I know that’s why he did what he did.”

Before he could ask what she meant the old elevator dinged and the doors opened. The inside of the elevator appeared new oak paneled and mirrored. 60s jazz played inside of it. A man, about forty or so stepped out and the doors closed. He was a biker type with a barrel chest and a goatee.

“You Angel?” he said.

“Yes,” Angel said. He tensed with hope and the anticipation of a fight.

“Damn,” the guy's eyes passed over Connor, “and this is the kid?”

“Yes,” Angel said.

“Damn,” the guy repeated.

The guy reached into the pocket of his leather vest and got out what looked like green tinted John Lennon glasses.

“Is _damn_ part of your medical assessment?” Cordy turned to him with her arms folded, “Shouldn’t you being doing something?”

“I am doing something,” the guy said.

“Cordelia,” Angel still sat with Connor, “Let him…”

“That rock demon Devil thing did this?” the guy asked

“No,” Angel said, “Well, not directly. He—he was hit by a fireball from the sky.”

“He pushed you out of the way!” Cordy said, “He saved your life! I know it was because of what you said.”

Angel’s whole body tensed. Was she right? Is that what happened? It all happened so fast. But, it was what happened, wasn’t it? Angel remembered the heat. He was no stranger to fire and how it went from burning to scalding in a blink, but this time he hadn’t realized where the heat was coming from because it was above him. Connor had and acted fast. But, he didn’t know what Cordy meant. He hadn’t said anything to the boy.

Actually, everything before than had been going reasonably well. Angel had even told Connor he loved him. Connor hadn't exactly jumped for joy but...Oh god. Was that what Cordy meant? Had Connor saved Angel because he told him he loved him? No! Angel refused to believe that. He refused to believe his love only brought pain. Not to Connor! To Buffy, okay. To other people at times, okay. But, not Connor. Not his son! 

“A fireball from the sky,” the guy shook his head as he now put on red tinted John Lennon glasses and looked at Connor, “You gotta love LA. They always wanna end it in style and say it was all their idea”

“The, um, fireballs started happening after the demon did a ritual,” Angel said.

The Healer could find this information useful.

“I heard,” the guy said, “A pentagram made up of bodies. Very hack shit if you ask me. What is this? 1987? Satanic panic is over.”

“Well,” Cordy said, “I don’t think this literal monster looks at it that way. I think he’s going back to the classics and it appears to be working. He’s still out there and the world is still ending! And you have no idea how important he is to stopping it!”

What was humiliating was he and Connor hadn’t even made it to where the Beast murdering innocents. They were only just headed to the roof. Angel knew that he and his son were the two best fighters, and he also knew Gunn, Wes, and Lorne had arrived ahead of them. But, Angel would take any humiliation if it meant Connor would be okay.

“Lady,” the guy said, “I get that this dude is some big deal vampire but—“

“Not him,” Cordelia gestured to Angel and then Connor, “Him!”

“Hmm,” the guy put his red glasses away and took out blue ones and looked at Connor.

“How many dimensions has the kid lived in?” he stroked his goatee.

“Two,” Angel answered.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, why?”

“He’s like half vampire or something?”

“No,” Angel said, “He’s—“

“He’s the son of two vampire and he seems to have all of their strengths but none of their weaknesses,” Cordy said quickly, “He’s alive. His heart beats. He doesn’t have the monster—“

“I get it. Like Blade,” the guy said, “Only white. He is white, right?”

Cordy swallowed a sob.

“Yes,” Angel says, “I’m his father.”

The guy kneeled down in brown tinted glasses to examine Connor closer.

“You do know Blade is fictional character,“ Cordy said anxiously.

“Well,” he said, “Good news is everything is still attached down there even though it’s kind of a burnt flat sausage party. But El, I mean the doc, is real good at what she does so….”

“Oh god!” Cordy cried.

“You’re not the-uh-- doctor?” Angel said.

“No,” he said, “I’m just the traveler.”

“Oh thank god,” Cordelia said.

“So…this is how it works. I gotta take the kid up without you.”

“What? No!” Cordy said.

“The parents always freak out when I say that but—“

“I’m _not_ his parent!” Cordy said, “How old do you think I am?”

“Lady, I thought you said you were a vampire,” he said, “and it’s not like I can tell how old _he_ is.”

“Oh,” she said, “right. No, I’m not his mother. ”

“Anyway, the _family_ , always freaks out when I say I have to take someone up without them, but, trust me, it’s faster and better that way. I’ll take him up and then another elevator will come down for you, and you take it to 4, okay?”

“Why—“ Cordy began.

“Can you tell us how those other people are? They’re my team.” Angel asked.

“You mean those two guys that came in with Lilah and that skinny girl?” he said, “One was way more busted up than the other, but it looks like they’ll be alright.”

Oh, thank god! Angel had been so focused on Connor. He hadn’t even…

“So,” the guy said, “This is when you…“ he held out his arms.

“Oh,” he said.

He transferred Connor over to the guy’s arms. Angel was pretty sure the guy was human, but his was as big as Angel, and Connor wasn’t. He had gotten Darla’s diminutive genes. Not that he was puny. As Angel felt the weight of his son’s body gone he had memories of handing Connor off to Cordy as an infant.

“Isn’t there, like, a stretcher—“ Cordy began

“They don’t travel well,” he said, “See ya soon.”

He disappeared suddenly right before there eyes with Connor. With the weight of Connor gone Angel felt a new feeling anxiety. There was nothing for him to do except wait. He felt his arm sting with a slap.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Cordelia said bitterly, “You were _not_ supposed to get a phone call from the Buffy and fall apart, and abandon your team and go all grand gesture.”

“For the last time,“ he said, “That is _not_ what happened. Buffy called and—“

“--you swapped apocalypse stories and you had some big epiphany that you had to go chase down Connor and me rather than stop the world from actually ending.”

“Cordy,” he said, “The world is still here.”

“Not if he dies, it’s not,” Cordy’s eyes filled with tears.

She turned away and Angel’s jaw tightened.

“He won’t,” Angel said.

“Angel,” she said, “I’m the Higher Power and I don’t know that, so there’s no way you could. So, next time that bitch calls to tell you some sob story about some evil origin trying to kill the Slayer line, can you just remind her you have your own family now?”

“That’s exactly what I did,” Angel said, “I told her I’d do what she asked but—but her call made me realize we are a family and that whatever is really going on is bigger than all of us, and I knew I had to get you both.”

It sounded stupid now. But, it had felt right.

“And by ‘What is really going on,’ you don’t mean finding out Buffy’s 2.0 version of you is that skeevy little limey vamp Spike and that you can’t stand to lose anymore control?”

“No,” he said, “I don’t. I mean that I think this apocalypse hasn’t really even started. And since we’re just here waiting, you might as well explain how you knew about Buffy and Spike.”

He needed her to explain more than that, but it was a good start. Cordelia shuddered and stuck out her tongue.

“Sorry,” she said, “It’s just whenever I even try to picture that greasy punk with a soul I gag. I can’t even begin to picture Buffy with that Hot Topic loser. I thought she at least had taste …Oh no, now I am picturing it. Eeeh.”

Angel laughed. “Tell me about it. So, how did you know?”

This was good. It was. Even though Connor weighed on both of them they could still joke. It would only make things better. This was how he and Cordy were, or how they used to be before her Ascension. This was why Angel had spent so many nights wishing she would come back to him.

“How do you think? When I became a Higher Power and saw everything. Luckily, some of the seeing was a metaphor but—“ She stopped talking and backed away from him.

"You," she said 

She looked like the scared woman of a few weeks ago. The one that saw everything he did as Angelus. Was she seeing it again? His heart sank.

“Cord—“ he began.

“Are you smiling? What is going on, Angel? Are you—Are you losing your mind? Because, if you’re doing that again--”

“No, Cordy,” he said, “I’m not. I promise. Buffy with Spike, Buffy and anything, isn't going to push me over the edge anymore. I’m just—I’m glad to see you back to yourself. That’s all. With your amnesia and--”

“I am one hundred percent myself now, vampire with split-personality-disorder. Thanks for noticing.”

“So, your admitting you haven’t been until now?” Angel folded his arms.

“Is this about my weight gain?” she said, “They don’t exactly have gyms on higher plains, you know?”

“What? No,” he said. He had noticed it. It was one of her changes that hadn’t made him feel less for her, if anything he wanted to take her softer curvier flesh and…He shook off those images. Those feelings. He could control those them.

“Cordelia,” he said as he noticed her smug smile, “You—you’re always beautiful and—and I know you’re doing this on purpose. You—you know this is about you and my son. He’s in love with you and I know with your amnesia and-and-“ Angel sighed, “I know you feel something for him or you did. But, now that you remember...”

Now that she remembered. Not that she was back to herself, she had to see how wrong it was.

Angel could smell it when he went to Connor’s apartment. She and Connor hadn’t had sex, but they had to at least be cuddling in the same bed. Angel could understand. She wasn't herself and people did things when they felt scared, and Connor offered her his power and protection.

“ _Your_ son,” she scoffed, “ _Your_ people. _Your_ mission. You think everything is yours, Angel.”

“You—you’re not going to deny it,” he sunk back on the lobby couch, “You and Connor. Well, it wasn't real--”

“Well, I’m not yours. I never have been, and what’s happening between Connor and me _is_ real. It’s destiny.”

“Destiny?” he sprung up, “Cordelia, he’s eighteen, and—and your twenty-five and you held him as a bab--”

“Hey!” she put a finger in his face, “I told you to never speak of that. No one needs to know I missed the first two years of school because my parents wanted to live in Switzerland.”

She had shared what she thought was some deep dark secret with him once. She was two years older than she claimed to be due to starting school late.

“Come to think of it,” she said quietly, “that might have been daddy doing a tax evasion thing.”

She was Cordelia. All fire, but no real fury. _His_ Cordelia. He didn’t care if she’d say that was possessive or sexist. He thought she was gone, that The Powers had taken too much of her, but she was still here. She was just completely wrong.

“Cordy,” he said, “Since when do you believe in destiny?”

“Hello!” she said, “Higher Power, here. And, you just refuse to believe that don’t you? You refuse to believe that I’m a Champion or that I could ever be more powerful than you.”

Her face became so bitter and twisted and he did see fury. Maybe she really hated him. If anything happened to Connor she would. If it did Angel knew he’d just go back to wishing he didn’t feel anything at all. Not for Cordy, or Buffy, for his team, or the world, or even Connor. Especially Connor. The boy had been a brat and now, now he really had taken something, someone, so important to him! But, it didn't matter. It wasn't that he didn't care, but he knew no matter what Connor did he'd always love him. He may throw his son out or a punch at him, but there was nothing he wouldn't do for the boy. His son. Nothing made him feel more human than Connor. If Connor died he’d wish he could end the world himself and it wouldn't matter that Cordelia Chase was disgusted by him and she believed she was meant to be with his son...and not him. But, for now, it did matter. 

“Wha—“ he began.

“The only person you ever really believed in was sixteen when you first started dating her,” Cordy said, “and you were two-hundred-and-who-cares! I know that’s why you’re so sexist sometimes, grandpa. But if you even try to judge me with that 17th century standard again I’ll flatten your doubles.”

He felt a bitter sweet smile pull at his face. She was _his_ Cordelia, who never let him get away with anything. Was all of her and Connor really about her being jealous of Buffy?

“Cordy…” he started, but had no idea what he was going to say next.

“Meanwhile,” she said, “Your former Lolita calls and you just jumped to attention immediately. What did she ask you to do?”

“She asked me to warn Faith that the Origin of Evil was trying to take out the Slayer line,” he said, “But, I knew I couldn’t leave, so I called in a favor, and a friend will warn her.”

“Oh, you saved Faith again,” Cody rolled her eyes, “Goodie. I’d hate to think while we’re sitting here and _your_ son is fighting for _his_ life because he saved _you_ that something bad would happen to Faith. I’ll really be rooting for her because we all know she’s _really_ made the world a better place.”

*


	7. A Slayer, Failed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith gets a visitor in prison she didn't expect. He gives an update of Sunnydale, LA, Potentials, and other things. The future looks uncertain. Where does Faith fit into it? Action, witty dialogue, and character study as the path has been altered.

A Slayer, Failed 

Faith knew what a waste she was. She was a Slayer, who was Chosen by some great Power, to rid the world of evil. Yet, here she was in a Stockton, California Women’s Prison.

So, The Council had finally sent a dude to kill her. She thought they would at least send a woman to be stealthy in the prison. But no. This dude was hiding in one of the few bathroom stalls that had a door.

Faith took her time in the shower. If she was going to fight for her life she wasn’t going to do it wet or dirty. Those days were over at least for now. She dried herself with the coarse threadbare state prison issued towel. She did it behind the cracked yellow tile wall where her assassin couldn’t see.

She wondered what had taken The Council so long. Faith had turned herself in almost three years ago. She had expected the prison to be filled with monsters of a different kind, her kind, human ones.

But, really 90% of these chicks were just sad losers, not monsters. They never even had any power to begin with. They weren’t like her, someone who threw their power away.

_Can’t you give yourself the same sympathy you give them,_ her prison shrink would say.

_Okay, Laura,_ Faith would say _, You win. I’m a loser. A sad loser. I was caught up in a game I didn’t ask to play and could never win._

_Is it always about winning? Would winning make you happy? What would it look like to win?_

Faith was still trying to figure all that out most days. But, today she smiled as she rapped the towel around her. Because she knew for today it was about winning. Today winning would make her happy, because today she knew winning meant she’d stay alive, and for now, for a while really, Faith knew staying alive was something she wanted to do.

“Today’s theme is I’m fighting for my life,” Faith called out. She took out her orange prison pants from the locker. Orange was for the beginning of the week. Dark blue was the weekend.

She moved 30 feet from the lockers to the bathroom stall in three fluid jumps. The hard groves of the tile didn’t slow her bare feet. She kicked open the yellow bathroom stall door. In one movement she whipped her orange prison pants around the man’s neck. In another movement she pulled him to her.

“So, you may’ve thought this job looked fun,” she said, “and it will be, for me. Not you. Looking is the only fun you’ll get. Touch me, and you die. Walk away and you don’t.”

She was nose to nose with the dude, and he had a good-sized honker and heavy lidded dark eyes. He wasn’t built, in fact he was short, but there was something about him that said light-weight-boxer. . He wore a black hat with a brim that somehow stayed on his head when she yanked him to her. Light-weight-boxer who wanted to be in a noir film, either that or some early 90s douche.

He put his hands up fast.

“Relax, killer,” he said his voice strained, an east coast grunt, “I’m on your side. I’m just here to talk.”

“Talk,” Faith said. She scanned him.

He held no weapons, at least not ones she could see. He could be hiding a million magic doo-dads in his black coat pockets. If he was she was probably screwed anyway.

“Sure,” she said, “We can talk. I’ve actually become a much better conversationalist, since there isn’t much to do around here except read. Funny how reading and shutting up and doing nothing can make you better at talking and living.”

She rapped the pants around his neck tighter and pulled. His face reddened, but he didn’t choke or gag. She was using a light touch. She wanted him to talk.

“So, what do you want to talk about, Watcher?” she asked, “Here’s a topic. Did you know it takes about one full minute to strangle most people? I mean, it does vary but—“

“I thought you were the good Slayer now,” his voice strained.

“ _The_ Good Slayer?” she said. She let the pants go and he stumbled back to the toilet and ended up seated on it.

“At least the good one for what the world needs you for,” he said as if he conducted business from this toilet all the time.

She took two steps back to give them both space.

“Oh,” she said, “I get it. This is a test.”

“A test?” he bit his lower lip.

She walked backwards to her locker. Then she turned her back on him to put on her bra and prison uniform top. A test.

Faith heard all the clamor, cursing, and laughing of cellblock C moving out for their exercise right outside the shower room. In all the noise Faith knew she’d still be able to hear and sense if the guy moved in on her with her back turned. He didn’t.

“Yeah,” she said, “A test. You dudes love testing Slayers and I’ll tell you the one your giving me.”

Faith turned back to see her stalker still seated on the toilet. In his noir hat he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Go for it,” he said.

She stepped into her underwear under her towel around her waste.

“You send a man in to give me a mission. If I take it you know I’m redeemed. If I don’t: you know I’m not; and you make sure you kill me. But, if I do, it’s a suicide mission, so your little problem of me is done and done.”

He got up from the open stall toilet slowly. Guards blew whistles outside. Some yelled at misbehaving prisoners for minor offenses. It turned out prison really was like high school, except a lot of people were never really getting out.

“I kill you?” he said.

She made a show of looking at him. She tilted her head from side to side. She guessed that he wasn’t quite human even though he breathed. She had no idea what power he really had. He had gotten into a women’s prison filled with guards and six hundred prisoners undetected.

He might even be using some kind magic right now. No one was checking on Faith, but that wasn’t too uncommon. Just like at school bad girls were often left alone way too long with angry boys. This “boy” looked like one of those smaller tougher guys no one sees coming.

“Well,” she said, “Maybe not you. Probably some neutral demon you enslaved.”

“I enslave neutral demons?” he was a smirker.

“Of course you do,” she said as she put on her dingy gray socks, “You act like you’re all ordered neutral but there’s really no such thing. If you have power you’re always choosing a side.”

“You’re right,” he said, “But, sometimes the side you chose isn’t really about being on that side, but about balance.”

“ “That’s way too sophisticated an argument for me, so I’ll just boil it down to you think you’re the greater good.”

“The greater good. Nah,” he said, “It don’t boil down to that. Not with me.”

“But, it does for The Watchers Council you work for.”

He tossed her the orange prison pants after unraveling them from his neck.

“I don’t work for anybody, killer,” he said, “I know you got burned by those guys. A lot people did. Sometimes literally. But—“

“So, you don’t technically work for them,” she put on her beat up dirty white sneakers, “You’re some kind of independent contractor. Just give me the mission already, dude. If I think it _really_ is for the greater good and not the good of The Council I may even do it.”

“Knowing it’s a suicide mission?”

“Yeah if it was to save kids and puppies. What can I say?” she said, “I’m a one woman squad.”

“You have a very fascinating mind,” he said, “You should use it for something other than your own paranoia.”

“You sound exactly like my shrink who dumped me,” she said, “and I’ll tell her what I told you. You look like you take yourself way too seriously dressed that way. And, everyone thinks I’m a criminal no matter how I act, so how can I not be paranoid? Even though I know that paranoia makes me act like a criminal.”

“I think you just explained why recidivism happens,” he grinned and it lit up his dark eyes, “My name is Whistler, by the way.”

“Like the painter,” Faith said, “The one that was all into making art for art’s sake.”

She was playing smart. She could fake it sometimes. She was guessing this guy was one of the real smart people. She was guessing he wasn’t human or a demon, but something else.

“Just like him,” he said, “and I’ve got some ordered neutral news for you. The sun has finally set on the British Empire and you need to watch your back.”

Faith felt the skin between her eyes tense.

“Is this like some deep art world reference I should be getting?” she said, “I’m not really smart. I just read a couple of books and took a couple of classes ‘cause I was bored.”

“The Watcher’s Council is gone, mostly, ” he said, “It got blown to smithereens a few months ago.”

“What?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, “Even when you’re a system fighter it’s kinda scary when the system gets blown away. It’s like; ‘Now what?’ Right?”

“So now it’s the wild west,” she crossed her legs on the bench and jiggled her foot.

“You got it, killer,” he said, “And in the wild west everyone goes after the big guns.”

“At least it’s not a big giant spider,” she said, “I don’t mind spiders on me or even giant ones not on me, but giant ones on me. No thanks.”

“What?” he said, “Oh, like in the Wild West movie. Yeah, it’s not a giant spider. What it is, is the origin of evil itself.”

He sat next to her on the bench giving her enough space, but not too much.

“Oh,” she licked her lips, “Is that all?”

She could hear a walkie-talkie of a guard outside, but they didn’t enter the bathroom.

“’Fraid not. But, Evil has friends in low places and it’s trying to destroy the whole Slayer line, so—“

“So, this O of E is after me an’ B and every girl that has Slayer mojo in her.” Faith shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead, “How of many of us did it get?”

“Too many,” he said, “But, the good news is Buffy and that crew are protecting as many of those girls as they can. Preparing them to fight the end off. They’re all at her house. Word has it O of E plans to come through in a big solid way at—“

“--at The Hellmouth in Sunnydale,” Faith said.

“You guessed it,” he said, “There’s also this whole other thing in LA. A legit huge devil monster that wants to block out the sun but--”

“A devil thing in LA and the Original Evil in Sunny D?” Faith said, “So, it’s related?”

“The jury is out on that,” he said, “My guess, it’s two different types of evil hopin’ to balance it all out once they’ve flipped the script on the world. But, don’t worry too much about it.”

“Yeah,” she said, “Totally, I’ll just chill since I’m benched for playing on the wrong team. I get it.”

Buffy probably thought Faith would go make a deal with the real live devil that was murdering all those helpless girls, just to save herself. But, B couldn’t bring herself to try to do Faith in again. So, the solution was simple. Faith could rot here. Not that she was rotting. Did B realize prisons had computers, libraries, and shrinks? Faith could just sit here and look pretty, like a piece of art. Prison art was sheik, but it didn’t save the world.

“That’s the message so far,” Whistler said to her, “At least when I talked to Angel.”

“Angel sent you?” She kept her voice steady.

So, Angel didn’t want Faith to do anything either. He wasn’t wrong. She should just do her time here. Nothing had changed.

“Yeah,” he said, “Well, really Buffy called Angel and Angel called me and I came here to warn you.”

“Oh,” she said jiggled her foot, “Why?”

“What?” Whistler’s said.

Her head hurt. A guard’s whistle blew and stopped the chatter in the yard. Faith tensed even though the yard was on the other side of a 10-inch wall of concrete. Still, it wasn’t like Faith couldn’t break out of here in five minutes if she needed to, or wanted to, or if someone needed her to, but they didn’t. They didn’t need her. She was the portrait titled, Slayer, Failed. That was her purpose.

“Why are you here?” she asked Whistler and then she figured it out, “Cause Angel asked and you owed him?”

“Huh?” he said.

Faith should just forget all about this. Wasn’t the world ending all the time? She had laundry duty and GED class. Maybe she would stop buy the commissary store and see if Nikki was there. Nikki Nichols was this butch-femme little blonde thing who always had a girlfriend or two. She was a New Yorker heroin addict that never wanted to hurt anyone, except maybe her rich bitch mother when she was high.

Faith bent back her shoulders and stretched.

“Must have been a big favor you owed my boy Angel. You say you’re all about balance, and if there’s anything that’s imbalanced it’s me,” she laughed and licked her lips, “The Slayer who wasted her potential. So, why warn me? Shouldn’t I be the first one to die, so another Slayer gets called? Then they can work with B and—“ She stopped because he was laughing silently.

“What?“ she said. She felt her fists tense. She knew this was the beginning of her anger. Him laughing at her was a trigger. She could stop herself. She unclenched her fists.

“It’s so interesting what people think ‘balance’ means,” he said, “Why wouldn’t you assume that Buffy Summers is the one out of balance? She died. Twice and yet—“

“Fuck,” she said.

“What?”

“I really didn’t want you to be evil,” she said, “I mean we kinda of this whole east coast vibe thing together, but if you’re going to try to convince me Buffy is anything but every kind of good, I know you’re evil so—“

She rose and put up her fists. It was more for show. She wasn’t going to beat the shit out of him unless it turned out he could fight.

“Hey,” he said, “Put those away, killer. I didn’t say that. I’m just throwing around philosophy about balance. It’s my thing. Maybe there needs to be you and the Cali girl in order to keep the balance, did you ever think of that?”

“No,” she said and turned back to the bench at sat again, “So one of us has to be bad?”

“More like one of you has to see to what the other can’t,” he said and rose, “So, we’re good?”

Faith wondered if he was just going to stroll out of here and what would happen. Was she the only one who could see him? Did everyone else just see nothing or did they see him as some random female inmate? Would they just all be spellbound and think it was normal he was there? Is he technically in a different dimension? Even though her mind raced with these questions she wouldn’t ask them.

“Yeah,” she said, “Five by five. I’ll watch my back because it’s normally so safe in prison. Nice meeting you, Jimmy. Sorry I chocked you with my pants.”

Ever since Faith could remember she always had a lot of questions. But she knew by now that people didn’t have time to answer some dumb chick’s questions that didn’t matter.

“Jimmy?” he asked.

“Whistler, the painter’s first name. He shunned art with any moral purpose,” she said, “I hope you enjoyed my art piece just for the sake of it. I’m thinking of calling it ‘Failed Slayer.’”

Now he sat back down, smiled, and sighed.

“You know, kid,” he said, “I’m the kinda guy that tries to mind my own business unless it’s big stuff, but, don’t get all…” He searched for a word.

Faith wasn’t sure if she liked being called _kid_ better than _killer._

“Unbalanced?” she said, “I’m not. I thought we got each other’s sense of humor. It’s all five by five. I fully expect B would outsource the job of giving me a head’s up. It’s not like we’re pen pals. I’m happy she bothered at all. A few years ago she wanted to end me herself. It’s just the only person who cares if I live or die outsourced the job too.”

“Angel, right.” he blew out a long breath, “Yeah. Long story short. You know that baby he had with that vamp chick? Well, the kid got kidnapped into a hell dimension and came back a very…passionate angry bad boy and he recently got burned badly.”  
“You mean his heart got broken? Kid takes after his old man. I’ll get him over it,” Faith liked her lips and joked, “Is he hot?”

She shared too much. She could convince him she was okay with humor.

“Yeah, actually. He is hot, ” Whistler said, “I mean the kid literally got burned bad by a fireball that devil Beast made happen. So, Angel is pretty torn up about that.”

Faith’s mouth fell open. She felt like such a piece of shit. She couldn’t even remember what Angel named the kid. It all happened so fast. In this case literally, but here she was whining.

“Shit,” Faith’s face felt tight, “I—I didn’t mean to bitch. Everyone’s busy and has their own problems. Unlike them I screwed up my own life. I have no right expect to feel all this love when the shit hits the fan.”

“Oh,” he said, “But, you will. That I can tell you, because that I know. One way or another you’ll feel all this love. I think you might feel it so much it’ll almost kill you, but you’ll feel it. I just—I really hope it doesn’t burn you up or out.”

Her face felt hot.

“If your coming on to me you really have to work on your game,” she said.

“Nah,” he big-nose boxer’s grin, “It ain’t like that. But, I’ll tell you a secret, I didn’t owe Angel any favors. He actually owes me some.”

“Huh.” Her face still felt hot. She licked her dry lips.

This wasn’t anger. What was this?

“And I’ll tell you another secret,” he said, “I don’t know the future. No one really does, but I do know you’re an important part of it. Not just art for art’s sake, but a piece with a moral purpose.”

“Good to know, Jimmy,” Faith’s cheeks ached from her smile, “Even thought I know that’s not what you’re into.”

“People didn’t get that right about Whistler,” he said, “He wasn’t against art that had a message. He just hated sanctimonious bullshit art that had to shove some contrived moral message down everyone’s throat. That ain’t you, kid. You’re all real all the time, and that’s a beautiful thing. It’s just hard to balance.”


End file.
